Nightfall
by star-eyed cynic
Summary: Slight AU. Rollo doesn't speak up when the Cardinal comes and Gisla is being as stubborn as ever. In order to save all he has worked for Rollo must win over the heart of the stubborn princess using every trick he knows. A story inspired by the myth of Psyche and Eros.
1. Chapter 1

This little idea popped into my head today and I decided to just roll with it. I think this is going to be my 'just for fun' fic and I am not planning on doing any historical research and am I going to stress if a plot hole or two arises. I am just going to sit down, type (lightly edit), and publish. The story is canon divergent, but I am going to try and keep everyone in character. I hope you enjoy.

Nightfall

"Hello, my name is Duke Rollo and I am a very great and important man." He repeated back to the old man. It was the way they started every lesson with phrases he already knew and then new ones he would be expected to master. Over the last few weeks things had been going well he was picking up more Frankish phrases daily and understanding more conversation around him.

Today was different though, he knew he was stumbling over the words he had already perfected. His mind was distracted and flighty. He could not escape the feeling there was a soft buzzing behind one of his ears like a fly was trapped in the room with him.

"Rollo, Rollo do you hear me?" Abbot Lupus said, breaking into Rollo's thoughts.

Rollo shook his head trying to shake the feeling of the fly away. "Yes I heard you. Err…what is it you wanted?"

"I asked you to repeat after me 'I hail from the land of Rouen.'"

Rollo creased his eyebrows and he concentrated his thoughts before he began to speak. "I hail– from– the land of– Row-en."

Abbot Lupus shook his head, "No again. Watch my lips, 'I hail from the land of _Rouen_.'"

He tried once more, the words feeling heavy on his lips, "I hail from the land of Roo-en."

The old man waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss the way Rollo had said the word, "No. Watch," he said pointing to his lips, "Rou-en."

"Ro- Ro- Roo." He shook his head in frustration, "Whatever." He muttered in his own tongue and then stared down at the floor.

From the corner of his eye he could see the old man approaching, but he did not want to look up.

"Rollo, what is the matter? You were saying these words perfectly only yesterday." Abbot Lupus said.

It took Rollo a moment before answering. To a lesser man he would not have said, but the strange little priest had wormed his way into his affections. Rollo could still remember how not so long ago he had tossed the man across the floor during the first lesson. Yet, when he returned the next day the priest was standing and ready to teach. As if nothing had happened. The Franks must be made of sterner stuff than the Angles. And Rollo supposed that there was a certain kind of strength in fearlessly 'turning the other cheek' as Lupus had later gone on to tell him.

"What did the red priest want this morning?" Rollo asked still looking down at the floor.

"The red priest is called a Cardinal." Abbot Lupus chided, "And do you truly not know? Your Frankish has improved greatly. I thought you would understand."

"I- understood, but I still would like you to tell me."

"The Cardinal came to serve you the papers of divorce." Abbot Lupus answered though he was sure his pupil already understood this much.

Rollo snapped the quill in his hands in two. It was like he could feel his life falling apart again. "How can she be divorcing me? I have not beaten her. I have not even laid a hand on her."

A wry smile crossed the abbot's face, "Yes it is true you have not touched her, which is the problem. She wanted to be granted the divorce because the marriage had not been consummated."

Rollo's eyebrows creased, "What is that word, con-sum-mated? I do not know it."

"It means you have not known her, as a man knows a wife."

"Ahh, sex." Rollo said with a nod. He did not understand why they had so many strange words for things that did not even mean what they were truly thinking.

Another question crossed Rollo's mind, "Why did Gisla become so upset with the Card-i-nal?" Rollo asked trying out the new word.

"Do you remember when I revealed that you had been baptized?" The abbot asked waiting for Rollo to give him a sign he understood. "It is one thing to divorce and disgrace a heathen, it is another to do it to a Christian man. The Cardinal is now hesitant to end the marriage and wishes to return to the Vatican to seek council on this."

Rollo dismissively shook his head, "Your ways are strange," he commented, "how long?"

"How long until what?"

"How long until he returns and she is able to truly divorce me?"

"At least a month, I think. Maybe a little longer."

Rollo felt as if his heart was covered with frost. That was not a very long time. "Is there nothing to be done?" He asked. His voice giving the slightest quiver in despair.

Abbot Lupus considered his question for a moment and then answered, "You could always lie with her. She would not be able to leave you then."

"But how could that be? She will have nothing to do with me no matter what I try. She has even denied me from her chambers at night."

"Denied?" Lupus asked in curiosity.

"No…not denied, but would you like to sleep next to a screaming, sobbing girl each night? They have given me another chamber. And she posts a guard."

"Have you tried speaking with her?"

"I…no." Rollo answered as the feeling of hopelessness settled in him.

"You should try. Your Frankish has quite good. She would be able to understand you."

"I do not even know what I would say to her. Her hate for me is so great." Rollo said in resignation.

"Perhaps if she saw you conversing with someone else. You never speak to anyone other than me."

"That is because I do not wish to speak to anyone, but her! The others understand me well enough without Frankish words."

A spark of mirth entered the abbot's eye, and he asked "Is that because you strike them until they understand?"

Rollo could not help but give a soft chuckle at this, "Perhaps." A silence drifted between them and washed the light heartedness from the room.

"Is there nothing else that can be done?" Rollo asked again.

"Unless you execute your marital rights with her, I can think of nothing." Abbot Lupus answered truthfully.

"I have no desire to force myself upon her." Rollo said in resignation.

The abbot nodded, "Then I suggest you bring your thoughts to something else. Repeat after me ' _Rouen_ …"

Historical Note: Rollo brings up not beating Gisla as point because contrary to popular belief a viking woman could not divorce her husband for any reason there were only a few, the main one being domestic abuse.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Rollo watched as the sun sank in the sky. He had always loved this time of day when the world began to turn dark. Back home it was the time people would serve the evening meal, it was also the time of feasts and celebrations. When the community would gather around the hearth and drink to excess. Things were dull around here by comparison and he was lonely.

His new life reminded him of when he was a boy and someone captured a wolf and chained it inside the village. The children all challenged each other to see who was brave enough to pet 'Fenrir'. For the first few days no own dared to touch the snapping, snarling beast, instead they stayed to the side and watched beast as it struggled in its bonds. Rollo felt like the Franks watched him as he once watched the wolf. They admired his strength and feared him, but they did not wish to befriend him or be close to him.

His days were lonesome. Women would flee at the sight of him, men would go stiff when he approached. He had given much so that he could be here. He had seen that his own people were slaughtered so that he could become great in the eyes of the Franks. So that he may be his brother's equal.

None of this was going as he planned though: the people detested him for who he was, his wife openly scorned him and was seeking a divorce, and except for Abbot Lupus he was alone in the world.

A bitter smile crossed his lips. He would never be Ragnar's equal, he should have known this. He remembered that only one child had been able to stroke the wolf, his brother. When he had stretched his own hand out the wolf snapped at him and if he had not been quick it would have caught him. The gods had always favored his brother more.

The last bit of sun disappeared in the sky and the world fell into darkness. Rollo was growing restless. He should flee. That is what the wolf did; it broke it's chains and stole off in the night. What did he have to lose?

Gisla was going to leave him, and without his marriage to her he suspected it would not be long before he died at the hand of some Frank. He had already shown them most of what he planned to do to protect Paris. They would not need him much longer.

Perhaps he should just go now. Disappear into the night and condemn himself to a life of outlawry. There was not glory in that. No honor. He would simply become one of the thousands of faceless, forgotten men who had gone before him. Those who had achieved nothing and had no belonging. It did not seem to matter what he did the gods seemed to have already designed his life for this fate.

He stepped out into the cool night air. He could run now. Who would notice? Who would miss him? He sprinted for a few paces, but then turned and looked back. He knew the princess's chamber was above his and he wondered for a moment if she might be watching from her balcony. He looked and did not see her.

This was not unexpected, but he was still disappointed. What he would give to have her standing there beckoning him back.

From the moment he first laid eyes on her he knew he wanted her to be the woman his heart would love. He could still recall the way the sun tangled in he dark hair as she stood on the wall as fearlessly as a Valkyrie. He knew from that instant he wanted to be near her, drawn towards her by some unseen force. Like a hooked fish being drawn out of the water. He climbed a wall to be near her, and even though he had been thrown off, she was the first and last thing he saw.

It was as if someone had slipped him a love potion after that day. Or as if someone had once told him strong poetry about her, because all his thoughts traced back to her after that moment. He knew he had to have her.

When the envoy of the Franks came he was not even interested in their promises of power and land. It was the idea of marrying the princess that swayed him. Yes, the words of the seerer had run through his mind, but he would have wanted this woman even without having his fortune foretold.

He thought back to his happiest time in Frankia before his marriage, when Sinric was sent a message daily by the Franks. All the communications were the same: that the princess was overjoyed at her engagement, that she was pleased to be given to such a fierce warrior, that she prayed to her god that they would have many children together.

Some of these words surprised him, at their first and only meeting she had seemed displeased, but Rollo could not have been happier. She still had the fire within her that he had seen on the wall. She was not defeated or cowering like the rest of her people. He had been thrilled by the idea of winning her over, but was never given a chance. The Franks refused to let him see her again until the marriage, saying that it was not their custom. Rollo had not minded, he could wait a week or two as long as in the end she was his bride.

It was not until he saw her at the wedding that he realized what he had been told was all lies. She was more than displeased to be there. Tears had covered her face and her father had forced her to kneel so that the marriage could be done. This was never what Rollo wanted and he tried in vain to make amends. He had sent the witnesses from the room and tried to reassure her he meant her no harm. But he did not speak her tongue and whenever she heard his words she cringed and scowled. Rollo hoped that if he slept and did not touch her she would understand that he would not be a bad husband, but it seemed to do nothing but increase her resentment.

He should have learned to speak to her sooner, but with the false messages he thought she would be happy enough in the beginning and that he could learn later. He realized now that he should not have been such a fool.

Yet, a love struck heart was always filled with folly, and Rollo wondered once more if he should try to speak to her. He knew the Frankish words to say now, perhaps he could sway her. In his mind it was worth one more try. If he failed now he would leave.

He walked back to the palace to a tree that's limbs dangled over the top of the princess's balcony. He hoisted himself up the trunk and began to climb. His feet landed lightly on the floor and within a few steps he was inside the princess's chambers.

Historical Note: 'strong poetry' the vikings believed that poetry held certain kinds of magical qualities especially when it came to love.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

With only the light of a crescent moon to guide him Rollo stepped past the curtains that divided the chamber from the outside world. He strained his ears to hear any life inside. He hoped to hear the soft sound of snoring; that she was asleep. If that was the case he would climb into bed with her and when she awoke at dawn he would tell her all he ever wanted to say.

It was not silent in the room however. When he listened he could hear the soft sound of sobbing, muffled by a pillow. He was unsure of how to proceed. The idea of her crying in private frightened him. He had seen her weep before at the wedding, but he had thought of that as a way to shame him. Like when she tossed wine in his face or mimicked his manners at the table for the amusement of the courtiers. The idea that she was truly upset about her circumstances frightened him.

He walked in darkness to her bedside remembering his way from the few nights he had stayed here before he was given his own chamber. He felt his knee brush the edge of the bed and he waited a moment longer as he considered what to do next.

His presence seemed to escape her and her crying was heavy and heart breaking. Between her ragged sobs he thought he could hear her muttering a few words now and again and he wondered if she was praying.

He considered for a moment if he should just leave her to her anguish. He did not have the heart to though. He could remember nights like these when his soul suffered and he cried out, but no one came. Rollo had lived in Kattegat then, but he supposed pain felt the same no matter where one lived.

He climbed into the empty spot of her bed next to her and laid down.

At his movement he heard Gisla make a sound that sounded somewhere between a gasp and a hiccup.

"Who's there," she hissed, "if you are that filthy pagan I will scream."

"Then scream. I do not care." It was true if the guards came running they would only find a husband in bed with his wife. There was nothing wrong with that.

"And why would you not care? Have I lost all standing among my people?" She wailed.

"I do not care because I am exactly where I am suppose to be."

He heard Gisla give a loud sniff as she tried to compose herself. "Who are you? I do not know your voice." She said in a stiff and regal manner.

"I am who I am." He answered enigmatically, then continued in a softer voice, "Why were you crying?"

He felt Gisla go rigid, "I was not crying. And who are you to ask such things of me? You must leave before I have you dragged away."

"I am not afraid of that. They would not be able to drag me. I am one of the strongest men in all of Frankia."

"That cannot be," Gisla said in a bored voice, "if you were one of the strongest I would know you. You must be someone of no importance."

Rollo considered her words for a moment. "You are right," he finally agreed, "I am of no importance. But I wish to be important, especially to you."

Gisla let out an indignant huff, "It is very bold for you to say such thing to me. Now as your princess I must command you to leave at once."

Rollo snorted at her words. He was pleased to see that her temper never left her.

"What is so funny?" Gisla questioned. "I commanded you to leave. Now go."

"You cannot command me leave."

"And why not?"

"Because I am your equal."

"How dare you," Gisla said with her voice holding the frosts of winter, "I have no equal and answer to no one, but my father. What could someone like you ever offer me?"

"I could listen." Rollo answered.

"Listen," Gisla mocked, "and what good would that do me?"

"It might help to share your mind. I know what it is like to suffer. And as I said before I am your equal. You could share your thoughts with me."

"Why so you could go around Paris peddling my secrets? Get out! Besides I was not crying I was simply. . . praying deeply."

A slight grief filled Rollo at her words, "I would not tell anyone what you tell me." He said in earnest, "Besides I could already tell them you were crying. This much I already know. Please just tell me what it is that troubles you."

"I was not crying! And if you must know I was troubled because my father is angry with me."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"He is incensed that I tried to be granted a divorce from the heathen he forced upon me. He said it was wicked of me to try and ruin all his plans and leave Paris without protection. But I told him that it was wicked to force me into a marriage with one of Paris' attackers and that there were other ways to defend the city. He grew angry at my words and had my guards dismissed."

"Guards?"

"Yes," Gisla said with an annoyed huff, "I had been keeping men outside my door to ensure that savage did not come and attack me in the night. My father had those men sent away saying that my behavior was an offence to the sacrament of marriage, and it was not right for me to keep my husband away from me."

For a brief moment Rollo felt slight panic rise up inside him. He did not know what a 'sacrament' was and he was worried she would like to speak about that more.

His fears vanished when Gisla began to speak again, "That is why I mistook you for my husband. I thought my father had sent someone to fetch him to my chambers so that he could come and defile me."

"Do you worry about him often?"

"Not when I had guards at my door!" Gisla said in protest, "Now I must spend all my nights in terror waiting for that beast to come and find me."

"Why would you be terrified? You have kept him from you this long, perhaps he is not interested."

"Interested? Of course he is interested." Gisla said in offense, "I am the lovely princess of Paris. Many men desire me I know it. And that heathen did too, he would have taken me on the wedding night if I had not bravely defended myself with a knife."

A deep smile etched across Rollo's face as he heard her telling him her version of that night. She was a kitten who had confused herself with a lion, and he loved her all the more for it.

"I have no doubt that that piece of warm meat will come back and try and have his way with me. He is an animal and only the most base of instincts control him. Do you know they have been trying to teach him Frankish for weeks with no improvement? He cannot even say a word of it and lives like a mute."

"No that is not true, he can say more than a word. I have heard him."

"Yes I suppose someone was able to get him to grunt je vous salue, it must have taken them all morning for them to teach him that much. And that ends his progress, one little phrase was all his little mind could muster."

Rollo smiled to himself again at her sarcasm. He had worked all morning to learn those words. And at the time he hoped she would be pleased with him.

"And now I must live in terror of the night he returns to my bedside to stammer out those words and then violently takes me. My father is truly cruel to consign me to such a fate."

Rollo heard a slight shudder at the end of her words, and he understood that in some way she truly feared this. He reached for her hand and clasped it. At first she moved as if she wanted to withdraw her hand, but then she relented as he began to speak.

"Princess what if I asked you for you to allow me to stay in the place of your guards? No one would see me coming or going. And I promise as long as you are with me you would never need to fear an attack from your husband."

He heard Gisla suck in a sharp breath. "No-no, that would not be appropriate." She stammered, "And you are only one man and he is very strong. I do not think you would be able to help me."

"I am not afraid of him. As I told you I am one of the strongest men in Frankia. I have no reason to fear him. In fact, he should fear me."

"Who are you?" Gisla asked again.

"Someone sent to help you."

Gisla considered his words for a moment and then answered, "Then I barely give my consent for you…to stay."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

At the first whisper of sunlight Rollo was up and out of bed. He knew he must be away before she woke, though he was loath to leave her. She looked charming in the early morning light, and the hushed sound of her breathing was soft and pleasing.

They had talked late into the night and he had been surprised about what he had learned about her. She lost her mother when she was but a girl of ten. That was why she was religious, because she wanted to make it to the Christian heaven so that she could see her mother again. She amused him with the story of how when she was young she wanted her god to grant her the wings of one of her 'angels' so that she could fly to heaven and visit her mother sometimes. He asked her if she had ever told anyone else this and she said no. She also said that he was right and she did need someone to speak to before she drifted off to sleep for the night.

Rollo carefully removed himself from bed, using the greatest care not to wake her. She looked so young when she was asleep. Her cheeks flushed pink and her skin smooth because of her youth. He bent over her to kiss her on the temple, before returning to the balcony and climbing down the tree.

His eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, but his heart felt light. There was hope for him still.

* * *

The rustling of leaves woke Gisla from her sleep. She turned to see if there was much wind, but when she looked outside she did not think that was so. What a night she had had filled with such strange dreams. To think of a man sleeping next to her, what a sinful thought to have. But his imagined presence had been so lovely and warm. She smoothed her hand over the spot she had pictured him sleeping and then froze.

The sheets were warm. Someone had been in them. She sat up in fright and inspected further. The pillow was dented as if a head had been there. And the more she focused the more she could smell the musk of a man. Mortification filled her. What had she done?

Her maids entered the room and she froze. Could they see? Could they know? She had often heard people talking that one could see when a woman was sleeping with a man, was it so with her?

She gulped in fear and a slight shudder ran through her.

"Are you quite well, my Lady?" One of the maids asked, "You are very pale this morning."

"I am well enough." She answered, "I would like you to draw me a bath, though."

"At this early hour? Your father has requested your presence when he breaks fast."

"Yes, I require one. Go draw it and be quick."

"As you wish, my Lady." The maid said with a curtsey.

Gisla shook slightly as the other maids surrounded her to help her from the bed. Could they smell that strange masculine scent on her? They would talk if they did. What was she thinking, she could be ruined over this.

She hurried into the bath as soon as it was filled. Letting the scorching waters burn her as she settled in. It reminded her of the fires of hell she may face over such a mistake.

"More oils." She told her maid. She was determined to mask any hint of odor left on her.

* * *

She was late to the morning meal, but that could not be helped. Everywhere she walked she could feel other's eyes boring into her. Could they truly see some evidence of what she had done? They must be able to. She tried to keep herself composed, but her spirit felt flighty and restless over the secret she held.

"I am glad you could finally join us, daughter." The Emperor told her as he sat at the table.

Anger washed away her sense of shame. He was only breaking fast with the heathen; no other dignitaries were there. Perhaps her father wanted her to join him sooner so that their conversation would cover up the sound of the slurping and smacking pagan.

Gisla rolled her eyes, and then said, "I do not see why my presence is required for when you toss food to the dog. He is your pet, not mine."

Upon her words the heathen stopped chewing and looked up with round, wounded eyes. It was almost as if he understood what she said. But that was not possible, he was too simple to learn Frankish.

"Gisla," Her father admonished, "it offends me, your husband, and God that you are so uncharitable. I suggest you hold your tongue when such comments tempt you or else I will bring priests to decide a penance for you."

"As you wish, Father." Gisla said, filled with determination not to speak to him for the rest of the day.

The meal continued in tense silence, like the sky before a thunderstorm. Gisla watched as Rollo chewed his bites as if he had forgotten how to eat. Each bite he took was slow and drawn out like he had to carefully consider every action before placing the food in his mouth. When he swallowed he was so hesitant she wondered how he did not choke on every morsel of food. Perhaps he was astute enough to understand she was disgusted by his eating habits and was trying to make amends.

She did not care. It was too late for that, and she fantasied of the time the Cardinal would return and any bind between them would be dissolved in the eyes of the church.

By and by she noticed that the pagan's eyes never left her, which filled her with trepidation. What could he be thinking of? At first she wondered if he was planning to attack her and was watching her in the same manner a cat watches a mouse. But somehow there was a different emotion in his eye that she could not quite read.

A shudder ran through her. Could he know? Could he possibly know she had been abed with another man? Sudden visions of ear croppings and purity tests filled her mind. What would he do to her if he found out?

He would surely wish to fight the other man. Gisla scanned the room with her eyes trying to perceive who it was who had come to her chambers last night. But no one seemed to be quite right. He had told her he was very strong; strong enough to not be afraid of the heathen. All the servants around her seemed too scrawny and beardless. Did the man who came to her have a beard? It was dark when he came and she could not see, but somehow she felt sure of it. At some point in the night had she been close enough to him to feel the whiskers on his face? What a scandalous thought.

She was now sure that the man could not be one of the servants, they all seemed to meek to be so bold as to come to her. Her eye wandered in the direction of the guards that stood at the door. Perhaps it was one of them, inspired to visit her after they learned she would spend the night unprotected. But they were not right either.

She looked briefly at how square and strong her husband's shoulders were. Neither one of these men would be able to defeat him in a fight by themselves.

The mysterious man must not be in the room with her she concluded. Though she was determined to keep a wary eye out for him for the rest of the day.

Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews! Each one means so much to me and they help me stay inspired :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Yes I know I didn't post yesterday, but I have a bit of a good news/bad news situation. The good news is that I am now officially no longer unemployed. The bad news is I am now busier than a one armed wallpaper hanger because of it. I don't think there will be any more daily updates because of this, though the chapters should be slightly longer.**

Chapter 5

One by one he plucked the tender stems from the ground, being careful not to crush the tiny, white bells. The fresh clean scent of the flowers covered his hands. And he thought back many years to another time when he had picked flowers for a different girl. He remembered that he had almost given that girl flowers like these, but instead settled for purple ones, for purple was the color of love. A smile crossed his face, the color choice had not helped him; the girl left to love another man.

For this new love Rollo was determined to do things the way he wanted. It had been so long since he had been driven by any other emotion than jealousy for his brother. This time he would love a girl without looking over his shoulder to see if Ragnar was looking. If Ragnar was seeing that he could succeed too.

Rollo was going to forget tradition and try and win her using whatever ways he knew. It was true she did not love him in the daylight, but there was still hope for him at nightfall.

Today had been a particularly trying day. He had been too tired in the morning to focus on his lessons with Abbot Lupus. The old man was trying to explain to him the finer points of the Christian faith which only left him further confused.

The father was the son, and and the son was also the father, and together they were also a spirit. He shook his head. It was all so overcomplicated. He asked why they could not all be separated, and why the father could not have more children so that things could be more straight forward. Abbot Lupus just shook his head at his thoughts and told him that the sacred wisdom would be imparted to him in time.

He was glad the abbot was patient with him, with Gisla it was not so. He remembered the first mass he had attended. She had done her best to keep him away from the chapel, sending men when he first entered to lead him away. He had followed the men, not knowing any better at the time. Count Odo had been sent to fetch him and bring him back inside when he was on the steps of the chapel. He had been so confused by two groups of people telling him which way they wanted him to go when he did not even speak the language. At one point one of the guards laid their hands on him trying to get him to follow. This was too much and Rollo shoved the man hard enough to knock him to the ground.

From inside the chapel he had heard a scream, and he looked up to find Gisla standing near the entrance pointing at him and yelling at her father. Rollo could still see in his mind's eye all the faces of the people who had gathered around to watch inside the church.

In the end he was brought back into the chapel and attended mass with the rest of the people. However, in some ways he wished he had just been left outside. The whole ceremony was very boring to him, with soft singing and candle lighting. They filled the room with sweet smelling smoke and then expected him not to sleep. And the whole thing was done in their 'latin' the language of their holy men, which only added to his confusion.

He had left disappointed. There had been no sacrifices, toastings, or oath takings. It had been a very dull affair full of talking, and he wondered how anyone left feeling closer to the gods.

The next Sunday he had tried to avoid mass altogether, but soon learned that if he did not go inside he would be the only man in the city not there. Rollo did not want to live as an outcaste again and went inside.

Abbot Lupus had now taught him all the responses to say during the service which helped him not dread it so much. In fact, the first week after he learned to say the prayers he was quite eager for Gisla to see that he was a learned man and that he now knew her holy words. Gisla had seen to it however, that she sit in a different spot far away from him. And so she did not see what he had learned.

He finished plucking his last flower, this one he was particularly pleased with for it had many blossoms on its stem. Learning prayers would not please his princess, he must earn her affection. Night would come soon and they would sit and talk once more.

* * *

Gisla went into her bed filled with anticipation at the thought of her mysterious visitor coming again. She had watched for him all day, but he had not revealed himself. She had looked among the royal advisors, but they all seemed too old. She had made a study of all the young squires in the court, but they were barely more than boys. And Gisla could not imagine how someone common place could make it inside the palace walls unseen. He could not be Count Odo for he was too fat. Nor could he be Roland for he was too thin. It was almost as if this mysterious man did not exist at all.

Gisla wondered if it all had been an act of her imagination for he was no where to be found. Yet she knew someone had been next to her in the night. There was no mistaking the signs she had found in the morning. She knew he would return this night for he had promised to protect her.

Dread and excitement filled her up all at once at the thought of him being next to her again. She would have to send him away of course. It would be a great sin to let him stay again. She relished the thought of when she would have to send him away. He would be truly disappointed to be dismissed she was sure. Even if it was sin, it was a great honor for him to even be in the same bed with her.

Gisla tucked herself into bed and drew the sheets up around her to that they covered her mouth to suppress a giggle of excitement. She could almost hear his deep voice now, as he begged her to let him stay.

She fell into a soft doze and when she was stirred into consciousness she knew he was in the room with her again. By the light of the moon she could make out his figure as silver strands of light clung to his form. She did not think he had been lying now when he said he was one of the strongest men in Frankia. He was very tall and his shoulders and arms seemed square and sturdy. She had never seen his equal before.

He walked to the side of the bed where he had slept the other night, and started to climb in.

Gisla sat up, "I beg your forgiveness, but you must not get in again."

"Oh, and why is that?" The man answered.

"Because last night was a mistake I should not have made. It is not right for me to be with a man who is not my husband."

"Do you have a husband, truly?" He asked in an entertained voice as he climbed into bed.

"Yes of course! You must be the only man in Paris not aware of him. He is one of the heathens who sieged this fair city."

"No, I know that," the man said with a hint of laughter. "What I meant was are you married to him in truth. There is word you wish to leave him over him not being a true husband to you."

Gisla's pride was wounded that this man was speaking so openly about her private affairs. It was true she publicly scorned the heathen, but she always viewed it as her issue and not be discussed openly by others. "That is a lie! I wish to leave him for being a savage and not worshipping the one true God. He helped attack my city and killed my people. And I find being forced to be married to him a great insult to me. If I were a man it would not be so."

"What would you do to him if you were a man, as you say?"

"I would strike him down, and wet the ground with his heathen blood, that is what I would do. And I would be the Great Champion of Paris and everyone would know and fear me far and wide."

"I have no doubt," the voice said with a lilt of amusement. "So you regret being born a woman?"

Gisla paused for a moment in thought. "No," she finally answered, "it is not that I dislike being a woman, it is just I am tired of being trampled and passed over by others because I am not a man."

"And would your husband do this to you?"

"Yes, of course! He is a pagan and has no soul. I am sure he wishes to harm me very much. He is like a wild beast. He has no respect for me and I am sure he would maim me if he were given the chance."

"And what has he done to hurt you?"

"I already told you he attacked my city–"

"No, I asked what he has done to you." He interrupted.

"I– Well– He has…" Gisla felt her temper rise up inside her as she struggled for words, "You are very tiresome and I thought I told you that you could not be here."

A soft chuckle escaped the man, "Very well I will leave you. But what am I to do with these?"

Gisla felt a soft bundle of stems pressed into her hand. "What are they?" She asked.

For once she stumped him and it took a moment for him to say, "They are…forest…flowers."

She bent down and inhaled the flowers unmistakable perfume, "No they are _muguet_."

"Muguet." He repeated almost wistfully. Gisla felt the weight of the bed shift as he began to move.

"Wait," she said.

She saw his head swivel in the moonlight.

"Yes?"

"Wait, I suppose it would not be too wrong if you stayed a little longer with me."

 **Historical Notes: "Purple the color of love" The vikings did attribute certain colors to certain characteristics (i.e. red for valor, white for cowardice) but saying purple was the color of love may be a bit of an exaggeration on my part. We do know when a man wanted to ask a woman to marry him he was suppose to bring her purple flowers. Historians aren't really sure why it had to be that color though.**

 **"Muguet" is the modern French word for Lillies of the Valley. I really didn't want to do the research to find the old Frankish term for them, if anyone else does please let me know :)**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Rollo felt the warmth of Gisla as she rested near him and was pleased. It was almost as if she was a perfect fit under his arm. He knew he should be sleeping but he could not bring himself to do it. If he were not awake he would miss this moment.

Her soft breath moved the strands of his beard in rhythm, and her heart was so near his he could feel every beat of it. There was a unity in this moment. A balance. And all of it would melt away at first light like the dew off the grass in the morning.

What he would give to spend a lifetime in this moment. For this was the time it was just the two of them together as people. She was not a princess and he was not a Viking. They were simply two people here together.

Gisla stirred a little. "You are still here." She mumbled in a half awake voice.

"Yes. You said I could stay a little while longer."

"That was hours ago." She reminded him.

"A few hours _is_ only a little."

"But suppose we are discovered?"

"Do not fret," he said in reassurance, "I will be gone before anyone sees. Go back to sleep princess. We will not be found."

* * *

"It looks like a garden fell from the sky." Gisla heard a maid whisper in the morning.

She opened her eyes to find herself covered in tiny white flowers and tangled green stems. She must have fallen asleep with the flowers in her hand and forgotten all about them.

"What is all this?" The matron in charge of the maids asked Gisla.

"It is…well… I…" Gisla started as she tried to think of an explanation. She finally settled for, "They are here because I wanted them to be. I am ready to be dressed now."

The matron gave a stern look and for the briefest moment Gisla thought she saw the woman's eye focus on the other side of the bed.

"Very well, princess." The woman answered in a brisk way.

Gisla tried to suppress the panic that was rising inside her. The woman had seen something.

* * *

The sun was pleasant outside in the gardens and Gisla walked to and fro across the court yard. She needed to find the mysterious night visitor, she simply must speak to him and tell him that he could not come to her again. Her skin crawled at the idea of all the stories her maids must already be spreading about her.

Down one particular garden row she spotted what she was looking for. There among the neatly kept rows of flowers was a plot full of _muguet_. The ground around the flowers had been trampled and flowers had been taken. This was the spot her bouquet had been collected from. She sat down on a near by bench and prepared to wait. She hoped he would come again, this was the only clue she had.

A disturbance entered the garden and Gisla looked over her shoulder to find the heathen over on the other side of the court yard throwing rocks at birds. Gisla whipped around not wanting to look at him any longer. She did not know why he always had to ruin things.

By and by the commotion stopped and she hoped he had gone to his Frankish lessons for the day. She was very grateful for those lessons, for it kept him preoccupied and away from her for at least a few hours of every day. Quiet again returned to the garden, but then was broken by foot falls. Gisla looked up to see that the pagan was approaching her.

She glanced about looking to see if she was alone except for him. No one else seemed to be in the entire area. She gave a nervous swallow. No one would be around to help her if he attacked.

He sat down on the far side of the bench and looked at her expectantly. Gisla dropped her gaze to her hands and began to fidget nervously. What did he want with her? Had she not made it clear enough to him she wanted nothing to do with him? Soon the Cardinal would return and this sham of a marriage would be over. Soon she would be free of this oppressor.

He scooted closer and she felt her heart leap into her throat. She jumped up from where she was sitting. She had to leave. She trembled in fear as she walked past him. She knew he could reach out and grab at her at any moment.

He did nothing to stop her and as soon as she was past him she picked up her feet and started walking faster. She then heard a sound, and even though she was not a safe distance away she had to turn and see what it was. He was laughing at her. Gisla felt her cheeks color red. She was not accustomed to any one ever laughing at her. What could it be that he found so funny?

Her night visitor had once asked what her husband had ever done against her, and now Gisla was beginning to count the ways.

* * *

A slight stirring in her bed chambers alerted her that her visitor had returned. She readied herself to deny him entrance into her bed no matter what he said. She had already risked too much. She felt the bed shift and sat up.

"You may not get in. You may not stay here another night." She said in her most regal voice, hoping to intimidate him.

"Oh, and what has changed since last night?" He asked as he turned down the covers and slipped between the sheets.

Gisla did not feel light hearted at his antics. "Get out." She said when she saw what he was doing.

When she realized he was not moving she began to shove at him and told him again to leave.

Her pushes did nothing to move him and only caused him to laugh. He then moved so that he was in the middle of the bed and Gisla had to retreat to the edge.

Gisla began shoving at him once more, "No, I said get out, not 'move farther in'. Do as I say. You cannot be here."

"And why not?" He asked his voice giddy with amusement as her little hands pushed at him.

"You cannot stay here because people are growing suspicious. I cannot have people thinking I invite strange men into my bed. I would be disgraced."

"But you do invite strange men into your bed," the man almost giggled, "besides you would not be disgraced if I was found here."

Gisla was losing all patience with him, "How dare you imply that I am not a virtuous woman. I am not some whore. The people of Paris would be scandalized if they knew you were here."

"No they would not. Many of them would actually be impressed I think."

"Why would they be impressed?" Gisla asked her voice tinged with scorn.

"Because like I already told you I am a very important man."

"No," Gisla corrected, "you said you were a very strong man."

"Well I am that too." He conceded, his voice filled with pleasure. "Goodnight princess." He said and then rolled over to his side of the bed.

"No you cannot stay. You must leave and not return. You cannot come here to speak with me again." She began to push at him again.

A rumbling laugh escaped him and he answered, "I do not come to speak with you. I am simply here because your bed is more comfortable than mine. Now be quiet I wish to sleep."

Gisla did not give up on her pushing, but soon realized it was pointless. Reluctantly she lay back against the pillows.

"I am glad you see things my way." The voice taunted her.

"I do not see them your way," Gisla snapped, "I simply cannot move you because you are too fat."

 **Author's Note: Please review, each one means so much to me.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The lark called early that morning and Rollo woke with a start. He had been lulled to sleep by the soft breathing of Gisla and had stayed longer than he intended to. He sat up and began to get out of bed when he felt a small hand on his arm. He turned to see Gisla looking at him with sleep filled eyes.

"Must you leave just yet?" She asked.

Rollo let out a soft chuckle, "Yes, but do not fret I will return tonight."

"There was something I wished to ask you." She mumbled as Rollo watched the first whispers of dawn appear in the sky. He did not have much time left.

"You may ask me tonight, I must be away," he said and then dipped his head down to place a kiss on her cheek. She lifted her hand up to trace her fingers over the spot he had kissed and gave a sleepy smile. "Sleep a little longer." He whispered to her before he departed.

He slipped over the railing of the balcony and into the tree limbs below. On the way down he nearly lost his footing from lack of focus. The loss of sleep was beginning to take a toll on him.

He had once warned Bjorn the dangers of a woman's love, and that it was not worth the risk. Perhaps he was right then, but now he had gone too far to turn back now. Whether it be fate, or destiny, or madness, he loved Gisla and he wished for her to return the feeling. He was so close now; he knew it. She had asked him to stay.

Perhaps he should have stayed with her. He could have watched the sun creep over the buildings of Paris as she was tucked sleeping under his arm. The women who attended her would have entered the room and been shocked. He could not help but smile as he thought of how terrified she would be if she found out that he was the one visiting her in the night.

It was true that he had hoped she would realize sooner, but after stopping by the garden bench where she was sitting yesterday it was clear that her opinion of him was still low. He was sure he could find a way to bring her around. She seemed to like him well enough at night. It would just take a little time, that was all.

* * *

Gisla missed the warmth of the stranger as soon as he was gone. She curled up on the spot he had been as soon as he left the bed and fell back asleep between the still warm sheets. She would hate to admit to anyone, but she was becoming accustom to having him in her bed and when he was gone she missed him.

A maid gently shaking her arm woke her up for her morning routine. She was tired of morning coming. She no longer longed for the day, but rather the night. She wanted to linger in bed as if somehow not leaving would bring him back to her.

Her strange behavior did not go unnoticed. "Did you sleep well, princess?" A maid asked her.

"Well enough, I think." Gisla answered between a yawn.

Once again the matron in charge of the girls seemed to caste her eye about for some sign of indiscretion, and Gisla wondered if she should not behave so openly in front of them.

The events of the morning passed in a blur and soon Gisla found herself seated at the breakfast table again with her father and the pagan.

She noticed the Northman looked exhausted as he sat at the table and Gisla felt a small smile cross her face. She realized he must not be having a happy stay in the palace and it pleased here. Perhaps soon he would understand that he would find no happiness in Paris and leave on his own accord and she could go back to the way life was before.

"Your heathen seems tired." Gisla commented to her father between a sip of wine.

"Perhaps he is not sleeping well without the company of his wife, daughter." Charles answered and gave her a pointed look.

* * *

"…these lands have been gifted to me and I am now a very great and important man." Rollo repeated finishing with confidence.

"Very good, Rollo." Abbot Lupus said slapping him on the back in congratulations. "You now speak those words with such fluency I could confuse you with a native speaker."

Rollo nodded in gratitude. It had taken him months to memorize the short speech, and even longer for him to work his mouth around all the strange sounds. But he was pleased to know that now when he visited his lands he would be able to tell the people there who he was and why they should listen to him.

"You know those words so well I do not think we need to practice them any more. What would you like to learn next?"

Rollo gave his question a moment of thought and then asked, "Is saying 'This is my wife Gisla' correct?"

"Yes that is right, but tell me do you think you will need to know those words."

Rollo's head snapped up in shock, "Yes. Why do you ask? Have you any news?" Rollo hated that a slight sign of fear had crept into his voice. But that could not be helped, he was afraid that she would leave him.

"Peace, peace Rollo. I have heard nothing. It was simply my understanding that nothing has changed between you and your wife."

Rollo nodded in agreement. He decided to play along because he did not want anyone interfering with his nightly visits. He felt like he was doing well enough on his own. "Yes that is true, nothing has changed."

"Then do you truly think it is necessary to learn those words? She is planning on divorcing you."

Rollo considered his words for a moment and then answered, "Yes, I know. But just the same I would like to know how to say these things."

 **Author's Note: Sorry it's short guys, life has been a little hectic. But I should be posting another chapter some time this week. Reviews are always read and appreciated.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Gisla lay in her bed feigning sleep. She knew it was only a matter of time before the mysterious visitor returned again. Her tows curled back and forth in excitement and it seemed like a feat of strength for her to hold back a burst of laughter. It was almost frightening to Gisla these new feelings that were growing inside her. She had surely never felt anything like it before.

The other suitors who had made offers to her came to mind. The young ones from smaller nations with their envoys and chaperons. The elderly nobles with one foot in the grave from large countries. And fat, depraved Count Odo. Her mind flicked through all the faces of these men and how she had felt about them, but what she felt now was nothing like that. It was a very young feeling. Very fresh, very free.

The sound of foot falls echoed in her chamber and her mouth twisted up into a smile. He was back again. She nearly shook with excitement at the thought of it. She felt his weight shift on the mattress and she could not contain herself. In a mad frenzy she popped up from where she was laying and placed a kiss on his cheek where his skin met his beard.

The man let out a sound of surprise and then a laugh.

Gisla felt her heart leap to her throat from fear and embarrassment. Perhaps she should not have done that. Perhaps he did not want her kisses.

"What is all this?" He asked between laughs.

"I– Well…I– To put it simply–", She started, then blurted, "I was confused."

"Confused?" He asked.

"Yes I was…half-asleep and…startled. That is why I–"

"You missed." He interrupted.

"What?"

"You missed." He repeated. "Let me show you."

Gisla then felt a hand tangle in her hair around the base of her neck as she was slowly guided towards him. A pair of lips met her own in a kiss and a rush of energy passed through her as if she was struck by lightning.

"See? This is where your kisses go." He said to her. His mouth so close to hers she could feel his every word.

Gisla searched her mind for something clever to say back to him. Something witty that would impress him, but no words came to mind. All she knew or could feel was her heart pounding in her chest, like a thousand stallions suddenly set free.

"Oh." She finally answered back.

"Oh." He repeated. He was not mocking, only teasing.

He then gathered her to his side and leaned back so that they were both reclining on the headboard.

"Are you still confused?" He asked as he could feel her look at the arm he had placed around her.

"No. It is just that…you are not like other men."

"Is that so?" He said and Gisla could feel his other arm shift up to stroke his beard as if he was in deep thought.

"Yes that is so."

"And what is it that makes me different from other men?"

The question caught Gisla off guard, "I do not know fully. It is just you seem better to me than the others. You are certainly better than that heathen."

"And what makes me better than him? You do not know either of our thoughts, we could be quite the same."

"I do not need to know your thoughts to know you are not the same," Gisla insisted, "you are kind, and gentle, and smart. He is none of these things."

"And how do you know he is none of these things?"

Gisla drew back from resting against him in shock at his words, "Are you saying that in jest? He is a heathen. Little better than an animal. He cannot learn our language or our ways. I have seen him strike down many men with my own eyes. He is a bloodthirsty savage."

"And what is so wrong with being a fierce warrior. If he were fighting for Paris would you not be proud of him?"

Gisla's eyebrows knit together in confusion, "That is…that is not the point." It was true she had not thought of it that way before, but what did it matter. She did not know why this man could not understand what she was trying to say. He could be very frustrating at times.

"I am frightened of him." She whispered up into the darkness.

The arm around her tightened as if to form a barrier between her and the rest of the world. "What frightens you about him?" He asked in a gentle voice.

"He is strong and very fierce. I have never seen such strength in a man. I was so frightened the night they handed me over to him I had to be dragged into the room screaming."

"And what did he do to you on this night?"

"He came close to defiling me, I think. He was on top of me for a moment. Some of his clothes were on, but– Why are you laughing?"

A soft stream of laughter was bubbling forth from the man and Gisla was about to shove him out of her bed when he spoke.

"Forgive me," he said through broken laughter, "I suppose it is not your fault for not knowing how a man loves a woman."

Gisla's nose wrinkled in anger, "Do not laugh at me! I have never been so frightened of anything in my life. I was terrified."

His laughter stopped, "Were you truly?"

"Yes," Gisla said as she pulled away from him. She no longer desired to sit in his arms, "You would not know such things because you are a man. Do you not know what happened to the women of Paris that fell into the Northman's hands? The rape and abuse they suffered? Everyone I have ever known, even my own father, would have allowed him to do the same to me."

"But the Northman did not do those things to you." The man said as he tried to nudge her back into his arms.

Gisla pushed his hands away no longer wanting his attention, "I already told you he would have if I had not been able to defend myself with a knife."

"Was that how the evening was spent? He got on top of you and you spent the rest of the night keeping him away at knife point."

"I suppose there were a few other things that happened as well."

"Like what?"

"He tried to kiss me." Gisla said like it was the most awful fate a person could ever suffer.

"Oh, and what is so wrong with that?"

"He is a disgusting heathen, that is what was wrong!"

"You let me kiss you. How is it so different?"

"I– Well– That is simply not the same." Gisla said struggling to think of a better explanation. "Besides he did not only try and kiss me, he then shoved me down and got _on top_ of me. And if it wasn't for my knife the worst surely would have happened. Then he rolled off, but left his legs still on me, which was very rude and vulgar."

"And what did he do after this?"

"He…fell asleep."

"That is not surprising, Frankish weddings are very long and tiring."

"Tiring for him! What about me? I had been threatened and berated for weeks before the marriage and then was tossed over to the dog. No one would listen to me no matter how much I begged or pleaded."

"But someone did listen to you."

"Who?"

"Someone had to have had the witnesses sent from the room."

"Yes, well the savage did. I suppose he did not want anyone else to see the tortures and miseries he wished to inflict on me."

"But he did not inflict anything on you. You said yourself he fell asleep."

"That is only because I had the foresight to arm myself!"

"Ah, but you have already told me he is a very strong man. Surely he could have taken your knife away. He must have not wished to harm you in the end."

Gisla felt her face flush with rage, "Out. Get out." She said as she tried to push him over the edge of the bed. "I will not be insulted in my own chambers."

"Where is the insult?" He laughed, putting up with her small strikes until he could find her hands in the darkness and restrain them. "He did not harm you. He only fell asleep. My question is what did you do after that?"

"I tried to leave the rooms." She said to him with scorn, "I tried to leave and they would not let me. They made me go back with him and stay with him through the night."

"And so he slept as you stood watch the whole night?"

"Why are you so curious? Because it is not you who must suffer at this animal's hands? It is not your father who torments you for not letting him defile you? It is not you who has to put up with the heathen lurking and pawing at you?"

"Pawing at you?" The voice repeated incredulously.

"Yes, pawing at me," Gisla snapped back, "did you not see him at the feast of St. Eulalie grab at me?"

"I do not think he was grabbing at you," he corrected her. "It seemed like only a touch. He also said something to you, I saw it with my own eyes."

"Yes, he said something to me," Gisla said in disgust, "He said 'my woman' the only words he knows are 'hello' and 'you're mine'. He thinks he owns me and can mistreat me as he sees fit." A slight choking feeling started rising up in Gisla. "He would abuse me if he had his way. He would take me from everything I love and hold dear." A tear escaped Gisla's eye, "And _no one_ seems to care except for me. I have no friends or allies to protect me from such a fate." Gisla gave a loud sniff as she tried to stop more tears from coming.

She felt a hand come up to her face to brush a tear away. "Gisla," the man murmured.

She pushed his hand away, "No, do not comfort me. You are a man and do not know what it is like to struggle for every bit of freedom you have and then have everyone despise you for it. I am trapped and there is nothing that can be done." Her voice drifted into the sound of gentle sobs.

"Gisla," He repeated again. He moved towards her so that he could hold her close to himself as if she were a small child. Then he spoke again, "Gisla, I promise you again that as long as I am with you no one will harm you. Have I not already told you I am a very strong man? Let me tell you also this, if you cannot be harmed you may be free."

Gisla wiped her nose, "Truly?"

"Truly."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Rollo scaled the tree once more. It was another night, and another chance to be with Gisla. With the progress he was making every night he was sure he could win her over. He was so close now. The kiss she had given him last night was the proof of it. And he was even surprised himself how much a single kiss satisfied him. The kiss was valuable because he wanted the woman behind it and not just her body to satisfy his own cravings. How long had it been since he had thought along those lines?

It was true she still held a low opinion of the 'heathen' Rollo she saw during the day, but what were her complaints? That he was a strong and brave warrior who had killed many Franks? That was true. That he was a Viking and a Northman? That was true as well. And when she told him her disdain for him not learning the language he could not help but laugh a little on the inside, for he knew her own language so well she did not even notice he was a foreigner when he spoke. Rollo did not worry because these prejudices could all be overcome or forgiven given enough time.

His feet landed lightly on the balcony and he entered her chambers. It never ceased to amazing him how wonderful her rooms smelled. The Franks were so wealthy they could afford heady perfumes to fill up ever space. He walked to the edge of the bed and began to climb in when Gisla's voice stopped him.

"You must not get in." She told him.

He paused for a moment. He thought they had gotten past this. "And why not?" he asked as he climbed in the bed.

"Because people are growing suspicious I think."

"Who?"

"The matron in charge of my ladies. I do not know how, but I think she knows something."

"I do not think she does, I have been discreet."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, no one has seen me." He reassured her.

"Very well," Gisla said and she moved closer to him. "Just the same I am glad you are here."

Rollo felt as if he were glowing from the inside at her words and her actions. He now understood that he must have been doing something right all these nights that had passed before. To increase his own enjoyment he asked, "Oh, why is that?"

"Because I feel so safe with you beside me." She clung to his person and nuzzled against his chest.

"Good. Good," Rollo answered wondering if Valhalla could be as wonderful as this. "You will always be safe with me with you."

"I know, but it is still good to have you here. I was so afraid before you came."

"Oh, and what was it you feared?"

"The heathen."

Rollo felt the tender moment break within him. Were all her thoughts tied around her hatred for him?

Gisla continued, "For the longest time I feared that he would come and murder us all in our sleep. That is what all the gossips would say."

Rollo drew back from her and felt a slight anger growing inside him, "And why would he do a thing like that?"

Gisla did not notice his irritation and let out a yawn as she answered, "So that he could seize Paris and let his brother in the front gates. He is a pagan and has no soul or conscience, I am sure traitorous acts are second nature to them."

"You think he is a traitor? Then what was all that we heard about the massacre against the Northmen in their camp. Did he not assist in this?"

"Yes I suppose he did. But that only proves my point. They are little more than animals. I doubt it meant anything to him."

She moved so that she could rest her head against his chest and held him closer, but all Rollo could feel was a lump of ice growing in his chest. She thought the death of all those people, many of whom he had once called friends meant nothing. He felt anger and unrest grow inside him until his skin felt like it was crawling with a thousand stinging ants. He could not stay. He could not be here.

He moved her arms off of him and got out of the bed in one fluid motion. She gasped in surprise as she struggled to understand what had just happened in the darkness.

"Where are you going?" She questioned.

"I am leaving." He answered as he made his way to the door.

"But you never leave once you come. Why go now?"

"I am leaving because I think I have been mistaken about many things."

She said something else as he made it towards the door, but he paid her no mind. He did not have the heart to listen to her any more. All he could feel was anger.

* * *

Rollo went to Abbot Lupus' teaching room first thing the next morning. He was not suppose to be there for his lesson for hours, but his mind was troubled. When he arrived at the room though the abbot was not there. He sat down and decided to wait. How strange it was he felt comfortable here of all places?

He remembered his first lesson here. Two small boys had been brought out before he had entered and then they had made him sit where the children had been. It had been such an insult. Yes, he could not speak the language, but he was not a child. The lesson had ended poorly, with Rollo tossing the abbot about and storming from the room. Thinking back he was not even sure how he had communicated that he wanted to sit at the large table across from the abbot like a man. Some how the old man had understood that Rollo wanted to sit at his 'desk' as he called it, and that was where the lessons took place from then on.

Rollo heard a noise at the doorway and looked up to see the abbot entering the room while reading over a piece of parchment. The old man looked up with surprise when he saw Rollo sitting in one of his chairs.

"What are you doing here this early?" Abbot Lupus said with a hint of a smile.

Rollo looked away he was in no mood for smiles, "I simply wish to speak with someone."

"Very well," the abbot said walking over to his desk, "what is it you wish to speak of?"

"Do you think of me as a heathen?" Rollo asked, not even daring to look up.

The abbot paused for a second in thought, "Do you think of yourself as a heathen?"

Rollo's head snapped up, "No, don't answer me like that. I need to know when you look at me do you see only a heathen."

"I do not see a heathen. I see a man."

Rollo slammed his fist down on the table, "No, what sort of man do you see. What sort of man am I?"

"Peace Rollo. Who has put all these questions in your head?"

"That does not answer my question!" Rollo said standing to leave.

"Rollo, Rollo sit." The abbot chided him.

Rollo reluctantly sat down and stared daggers into the man as he waited for answers.

"Do not fret, I do not have a low opinion of you Rollo. I know that you are clever, for you have learned Frankish so well. I know that you are brave, for before I even knew your name your acts of valor on the battle field were well known. And I know you have enough restraint to not force yourself on Gisla. What all this amounts to I could not say. I suppose it is up to you. And what you do with it."

"Then you do not think I am a savage? A traitor? Someone who would kill you in your sleep?"

"No, not at all. And I do not think many others truly think these things. What you have heard is probably only idle talk."

"Then do you think it is hopeless for me?"

"Do I think what is hopeless?"

"That I can win over the princess. That I can achieve greatness."

The abbot shook his head in amusement, "No I do not think it is hopeless. Now tell me truthfully, have you been visiting with the princess?"

 **Author's Note: Yes, it's a cliff hanger. Sorry. This was actually the first half of a single chapter, but that chapter grew to be three times the size of one of my normal ones so I had to break it somewhere. I hope no one minds too much.**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

All other thoughts and emotions cleared from Rollo's head as he heard the man's words. How could he have known?

"No, why do you ask?" Rollo lied as he searched for more information.

Abbot Lupus nodded as if he already had his suspicions, "As I thought. I only ask because there have been rumors of you being seen leaving the princess's chambers last night. Have you made no attempts to contact her?"

Rollo shrugged.

"Do you truly not want to make any effort at all?" The abbot asked.

"Maybe I no longer want her." Rollo answered.

"And why would that be?"

"Because she will not have me and hates me," Rollo said his face twitching slightly as he tried to hide any emotion that might appear on it. "I have known this even before I could speak her language."

"Are you certain you wish to give up yet? To lose the marriage is to lose both the lands and the title."

Rollo's mouth twisted as he thought, "How much longer am I to be expected to fight a losing battle? She will not have me. I suppose I will lose these things sooner or later."

The abbot looked at him and Rollo saw a flicker of amusement in his eye, "I never have thought of you as a weak willed man."

"I am not weak!" Rollo yelled, "I simply do not know why it is expected of me to do the impossible. She is stubborn and will not have me."

"Yes she is stubborn. Her mother died when she was very young and her father spoiled her because of it. Still, I always thought your temperaments made the two of you well matched. Together you would have been a force to be reckoned with. But perhaps this is not the Lord's will. He may not want such hard headed and stiff necked children brought into this would, and the two of yours surely would have been that."

* * *

Roll spent the rest of the morning in Abbot Lupus' room. He did not like to think of this as hiding, he simply did not want to see Gisla until he understood how he felt towards her. Lupus did not seem to mind his presence and they stayed in silence for most of the time. Around noon the quiet was shattered by someone else entering the room.

Rollo looked up from the loom of beads he was playing with and saw Count Odo standing in the doorway. The count gave Rollo a curt nod, but acted as if he had suddenly stumbled upon a rabid dog in an alley way. He directed his attention towards the abbot.

"Abbot Lupus, might I have a brief word with you?"

The abbot rose and met him in the corner of the room and Rollo began to slide the beads up and down the poles of the wooden loom. Soon Rollo realized he was beginning to pick up odd parts of the conversation. Odo did not know that Rollo knew Frankish now and subsequently was speaking freely to the abbot.

"Is it true then, was he really in her chambers last night?" Odo asked.

"He said it was not him when I asked."

"Yes…but do you think he _understands_ you well enough to answer such a question?"

"Yes I think he understands well enough. He said it was not him."

"Then is he displeased with her? He has made no attempt to consummate the marriage. The Emperor is growing quite nervous, there is word that the Cardinal will return soon."

The abbot nodded, but gave no other response to his concerns.

"Do you think he understands that she is his wife and fully available to him? I must admit out of all the problems I foresaw with the marriage this was not one of them."

The abbot nodded again, "Perhaps he is much different than many of us imagined him."

"That may be true, but may I trust you to relay information to him. Let him know that if he needs any assistance it will be given to him. Tell him that he guards are no longer at her door if he wishes to visit, or that we can have her brought to him. The Emperor wants this matter finished."

"Yes, I will make sure he understands."

"Good." Odo said as he left.

* * *

Gisla arrived at breakfast the next morning and was pleased to see it was only her father. She had not slept well after her strange visitor had left and she was in no mood to suffer the smacking, slurping sounds of the heathen.

She sat down at the table and began to eat in silence until her father interrupted her. "Daughter do you notice that anything is missing?"

"Yes, that vile creature is not at the table." She commented, not looking up from her glass of wine.

"Vile creature? It is not fit you should say such things." Charles scolded her.

"And why not if they are true?"

"You are very spoiled," Charles commented, "and I suppose that is my fault. But it is not fitting that you so thwart the will of your father and your God. You should not speak so of your husband."

"He is not my husband." Gisla corrected as she broke a piece of bread.

"Only because of your interference."

Gisla felt the food stick to the back of her throat at his words and refused to speak further. The Emperor waited for some kind of excuse or explanation from her. She gave him none.

Finally, the Emperor spoke, "Gisla I will not mince words when I tell you that strange rumors have surrounded you lately and I am not pleased."

Gisla felt her cheeks color at his words, but she schooled her features determined to reveal nothing. "Surely, father I do not know what you are speaking of."

"Oh, but I think you do." Charles said while giving her a pointed look, "Let me tell you of some news I have heard. We received a two priest who are on a pilgrimage to Rome and they bring much news with them. They have recently traveled through he kingdom of Wessex and the bring such strange stories with them, one of which is about a princess just like you."

Gisla felt her stomach jump and twist in knots at his words.

"The Princess' name was Judith I believe, and as I understand it she was much beloved by her kingdom and her people. But soon strange stories began to circulate about her odd companionship with a priest. Then she was found to be with child even though her husband had been away for some time. Do you know what they did to punish her for this?"

"No." Gisla said unable to make her voice louder than a whisper.

"They cropped off one of her ears so that everyone may know about her defilement and shame."

Gisla felt her own ears burn as she thought of a knife being brought down on them.

"Daughter, I feel you should know that nothing good ever comes of strange stories that surround a lady's bed chamber."

* * *

Rollo lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling above him. Gisla was in that room perhaps sleeping. And perhaps she was missing him in this moment, but he would not go to her. He understood now that anything he felt towards her must be from some women's mischief, a love spell perhaps. It had clouded his mind and ruined his judgment.

She did not love him, and he could no longer love her. This would take some strength on his part, but he was a strong man. He could over come. He had played the part of the hated fool once in his life already and he was not willing to play it again for her. He tossed and turned in his bed as he tried to purge any thoughts or affections for her from his heart. They were all lies and all mischief. He was destined to be alone and now it was up to him to make plans about what he would do with his life in Paris, for being a duke was now out of his reach.

 **Author's Note: The 'wooden loom with beads' is an abacus in case anyone is wondering. Please review, they mean so much to me.**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Rollo arrived late to breakfast that morning. He was always on time or early because he was anxious to eat after a night of fasting. Today was different though, he had spent most of the night tossing and turning as he thought of different ways to exact vengeance from Gisla for making him so love sick. Sometime during the early morning hours he decided that at breakfast the next morning he would speak to her out right so that then she could see that it was he who had been visiting her in the dark. It was him that she had kissed. And then he would tell her that he no longer loved her and that this was the price of her pride and arrogance.

He was surprised when he did not see her there. It was true that she was rarely punctual, but he was late as well. She should be here. He sat down at the table and for the first time in his life did not feel hunger. The steaming cuts of meat did not appeal to him. The ripe fruit did not tempt him. The light and fluffy bread did not make his mouth water. Where was she? She should be here.

For a moment he sat before the table like a statue. He then placed a bite of beef in his mouth, but it tasted like ash to him. He stared at the empty spot across from him. He had planned so carefully how he would take his revenge for her insults, but now he could not remember the words he was going to say. His mind drifted to her mentioning how others were growing suspicious, but what did their suspicions even mean? He was her husband.

But then again he had denied that he was the man seen leaving Gisla's room last. Perhaps they thought she had been with another man. Even she did not know it was him. Would they punish her for such an offence? If they were in his own land and she took another without his knowing, he would have right to kill both of them.

His throat grew dry at the thoughts of what they may do to her. It was even more suspicious that her father was not asking for her. Normally when she was so late he would send someone to fetch her. Instead the Emperor went about his meal as if nothing was out of place.

He already knew where Gisla was, Rollo realized.

This only added to his own apprehension. What had they done to her?

He looked about the room in panic as if there was some clue hidden in the area that would tell him more.

"Is something amiss, Duke Rollo?" The Emperor asked while whipping his mouth.

Rollo was shocked the man was even speaking to him at all. Usually he was ignored as if he were a small child.

He considered his next actions carefully, and then spoke, "Where…ees…Gisla?" He asked, intentionally leaving his words mispronounced and slow so that they would not know the full extent that he knew the language.

The Emperor's jaw dropped in shock, "You wish to know where Princess Gisla is?"

Rollo nodded.

"She is in bed."

Rollo waited as if struggling to think of the next word and then asked, "Why?"

A wry smile crossed Charles' face, "I think God has taken it upon himself to remind her of her proper and subservient role as a woman."

* * *

After the meal was finished Rollo left the room in haste. He did not know what Charles' answer meant. Was something wrong with Gisla? Had they done something to her?

He walked towards her chambers determined to find more answers. Standing outside of her door was a group of women who scattered like a school of fish at the sight of him. One brave woman moved to block his entrance to the door of Gisla's room.

"You must not go in," she said in a shaking voice.

Rollo looked around for support. He easily had the strength to move her aside, but did not wish to harm her.

An elderly woman with a stern face stepped forward and said, "Move aside Adelhied. He has a right to enter."

Reluctantly she stepped out of his way and he entered the darkened chamber.

* * *

Gisla's body seized with yet another sharp pain. It was her time of bleeding again. A time of pain and sickness. Her head throbbed and her stomach churned violently. Why couldn't God have made her a man? The curse he had given to women was too great.

She heard the click of her door unlatching and looked up to see if it was the maid she had sent to fetch her bread. But it wasn't. It was the heathen.

A fresh wave of sickness passed over her. What was he doing here? Was her suffering not already great enough?

She wanted nothing more than to run as he drew closer to her. But the pain would not even allow her to uncurl her body. She would have to submit to whatever he wanted.

He came to stand by her bedside and she looked up at him with wary eyes. He then did something unexpected. He placed a hand on her forehead.

She could not even place the context of someone acting like this until she remembered something. Her mother had once done this when she was a child to see if she was feverish. Gisla was outraged that someone had told him she had been taken ill. Why would anyone concern him with such a thing?

He let his hand linger for a moment and then removed it. Gisla wondered where she had placed her knife. She knew she may need to overcome her suffering to fend him off.

However, Gisla did not need her knife. He looked her over once more as if deciding something and then turned and left.

* * *

Rollo stood in the cool night air listening to the nighttime noises. They were so different than the ones he once knew. There was nothing wild about them anymore, instead it was always the soft buzzing of people. He missed the sound of the owl calling, and the howl of the wolves in the distance. He wondered if he heard those things now if he would be able to think more clearly. He knew he needed a sound mind to decide what he was going to do next.

Only this morning he was on the very brink of leaving this city and seeking his fortune else where. Now it felt like everything and nothing had changed all at once.

He had wanted nothing more than to disgrace Gisla before he left, but now that was not possible. She was ill. With what he did not know.

He did not think it was too serious she was not feverish. But the severity of her illness was not his concern. He was worried about how when he saw her so pale in bed he felt great concern. The problem was he was not as free of her love as he thought. In that moment he would have given her anything she would have asked, then she could have openly insulted him, and he would not have cared.

He realized that she was the Sul and he was Hati. She was the sun he would always be chasing. Even if he left now he would only want to go back to her.

This was no good. He needed to leave, but he could not escape her pull. Amends needed to be made. He could not give up.

* * *

Gisla's chamber was quiet, but he could tell that she was not sleeping. There was certain kind of restlessness inside that he could feel.

"You came back." She said, and Rollo realized that she must have seen his outline by the faint light of the moon.

"Yes, I did." He answered, still unsure exactly what he was doing there.

"I thought you would always be gone from me." Gisla said her voice strangled from tears.

The sound of her crying pierced his heart like an arrow and he knew he would never escape. For better or for worse he loved Gisla.

"No. Never. I will always come back to you." He said crawling into bed towards her.

"Please, you must not be near me." She suddenly said.

"Why?" Rollo asked, confused by her ever changing opinions.

"I am unclean." She mumbled.

"No, never to me. Come near." He said moving to curl around her.

"No. You do not understand. I may get blood on you." She insisted.

"That does not matter. I have been covered in others blood many times."

"Oh," Gisla said, as if surprised he was not more offended by her condition.

She settled back against him and he held her close, "Just the same, I am glad you are here." She told him.

"So am I," He answered truthfully, "have you much pain?"

"Yes, but it is better now that you are here."

He held her closer and let his hand drift to the spot above her womb, hoping to protect her from any pain she might feel. In that moment he made up his mind that he would never leave her again.

 **Author's Note: Please review, they mean so much to me.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The soothing heat of the stranger comforted her through the night and well into the morning. She felt so safe and protected near him. His arms around her made the perfect barrier between her and the rest of the world. She embraced the feeling of not being alone, of having a protector, of being with someone who would stay beside her. She had been warned her whole life to be wary of others, the Parisian Court was full of treachery. And all forms of affection or friendship were a ruse. But this was different. He was different.

Laying here so close to him caused a tide of emotion to wash over her; swallowing her whole. Consuming her completely. She loved him. This was the only man she ever wanted to be with. This is who she needed.

She needed the man with the gentle ways, who was not timid when he was with her. She needed the man who would listen to her thoughts and then would give his own opinion freely. She needed the man who would come back and stay, while holding her close the whole night to chase the pain away.

Overwrought by emotion she reached out for his hand that was draped over her. She brought the hand to her mouth and kissed every inch of it. She loved him, all of him, completely.

She felt his smile press against the nape of her neck as he stirred to wakefulness. Then his still sleep laden voice rumbled, "Is there a mouse in the bed? I felt something running over my hand."

Gisla let out a huff of indignation. He was impossible.

"No there is no mouse in the bed. That was me."

"Oh, and what was it you were doing?" He asked with his voice tinged with amusement.

"You know what I was doing." Gisla answered, not wanting to confess what she had done.

The faintest trace of a laugh filled his voice, "No I don't. I was asleep."

She moved away from him and crossed her arms in annoyance, "Then I do not know either. I was asleep too."

A deep laugh erupted from him and he took her own hand in his and brought it to his mouth. He placed a long, slow kiss upon it and said, "Do you remember now?"

Gisla felt her heart beat grow faster with exhilaration, like a thousand stallions turned free at once. Her cheeks burned with a blush and her head spun like she had just drunk a strong glass of wine.

A rooster's call cut through the silence of the night and the moment was broken. The stranger put her hand back down and began to get out of bed.

"Please," She said reaching out to stop him, "don't leave me, yet."

"I must. Dawn has almost come."

"Surly you could stay just a little longer."

"No," he said, a strange meaning hidden in his voice, "I do not think you deserve that."

Gisla felt her temper rise at his words, "What? You must have misspoken. I am the Princess of Paris. Who could be more deserving than me? What would you do if I ordered you to stay?"

A gentle laugh filled the room, "I would still not stay. I have told you before, I am your equal."

"I do not believe that is true. As your Princess, I command you to come back."

"No." He said his voice filled with enjoyment.

Gisla's face flushed with rage, "I am a true daughter of Charlemagne. Who are you to disobey me?"

"Ahh, but I think the real question is who do you think I am?"

"What," Gisla asked annoyed that he was changing the subject.

"Tell me who I am and I will stay."

"I am a Princess, I do not need to answer your riddles."

"Very well." He said as he began to walk away.

"Wait!" Gisla called before she even thought. "Wait," she repeated more calmly, "I know who you are. You are… you are… a gardener, I suppose."

A silence filled the room for a moment. And then he answered, "What is a gardener?"

Gisla let out a sigh, "Don't mock me. Just tell me yes or no."

"Tell me what that is and I will say."

"A gardener is a man who tends to plants."

"Then I suppose I was once, but I am not that now. Good bye Princess."

Gisla's feeling were caught somewhere between pure rage and unadulterated annoyance, "Don't leave just yet. I am sure I can guess. Just give me more time to think, I am too busy during the day to think of such things."

He let out a laugh offending her further. Why must he always be laughing at what she said?

"No, it is time for me to leave. But do not fret I will return sooner than you think."

He spoke no more and stole off into the darkness, leaving Gisla to ponder his final words.

* * *

Rollo returned to his own chambers and crawled into his empty bed. He was glad that he had returned to Gisla even if she still did not know him. He had remembered something as they talked before he left; she was young. That was part of her that bewitched him. She was half an emperoress, half a child. What the Franks called a princess. Five summers ago he did not think her father would have given her in marriage to anyone on account of her age. He needed to remember how much older he was than her.

Yes, she was stubborn, but she was young enough that she was still learning. Teaching her to love him was in a way no different than teaching Bjorn to wield a sword, with patience progress could be made.

A few hours later Rollo was striding through the halls of the palace. He had skipped breakfast, for he had better plans in mind. Outside of Gisla's chambers he saw a servant carrying a heavy tray of food. Inspiration struck him and he stepped in front of the servant blocking her way. The woman shrank up against the wall and looked up at him with eyes full of fear.

"For…Gisla, yes?" He said pointing to the food.

The woman shook with fear and gave a small nod.

"Good." He said snatching the tray from her.

She cringed as if she expected him to strike her, but Rollo only turned away. He had what he wanted now. He did not understand why the Franks were always so afraid of him.

He opened the door and entered Gisla's chambers. She was laying in her bed staring up at the ceiling with a distant gaze, as if considering all the mysteries of the universe at once.

"You are here at last Eleanor," she said without looking to the door, "bring the food quickly I am so famished–" Her voice dropped when she laid eyes on him.

"What are you doing here?" She said drawing herself into a sitting position.

He pointed down to the tray of food in his one had as an answer.

"You are not one of my servants. Why would– Wait! Where do you think you are going?" She asked as Rollo began to make his way to his side of the bed.

"You must not get in." She hissed as he began to place the tray in the center of the bed.

He watched her eyes grow hot as coals as he placed himself into bed.

"What do you think gives you the right to be in my bed!" She said in disgust.

He pointed to the wedding band around his finger.

"That does not mean anythi– Wait can you understand me?" She asked in confusion.

Rollo nodded yes.

"Then get out!" Gisla said pointing to the door.

A sly smile crossed his face and he shook his head to tell her no. He then reached down to the tray and picked up a piece of bread and began to butter it.

"That is mine!" Gisla said in indignation.

Rollo carefully spread the butter over the bread and then split the slice in two and offered her half.

"You are getting crumbs in my bed."

He shrugged and began to eat his bread.

Hunger must have over come her because she took the bread from his hand and began to nibble at the edge. She kept her eyes locked on him as if waiting for him to do something more offensive if she dared look away.

It took a small eternity for them to finish the food together. He would offer. She would refuse. He would eat. She would shout. Eventually they reached some kind of truce and the rest of the meal was passed in silence.

When the food was finished Rollo collected the dishes and put them back on the tray. He then climbed out of bed and over dramatically swept the crumbs of the bed in wide sweeping motions. He then gave a Frankish bow and left the room.

He shoved the tray and the dishes into the hands of the first servant he saw and went to go visit Abbot Lupus.

* * *

Night had come again and Gisla's servants bustled around as they readied her for bed. It was times like these when she was the most grateful for their help, for she was so lost in her own thoughts she did not know how she could ever dress herself left on her own. She thought it was providence that God had foreseen that she should be born royal so that she would not have to struggle with having to think and dress at the same time.

What a strange day it had been. And the night was only full of more mysteries and riddles. She was weary of wondering and decided to put an end to it.

Her maids helped her into bed and tucked her in, but as they were about to blow out her candles she stopped them.

"Adelaide, leave one lit. I wish to have some light tonight."

"As you wish, Princess."

 **Historical Note: "A true daughter of Charlemagne" It was common practice during this time to simply refer to yourself as a son or daughter of a famous ancestor even if you were more than one generation apart.**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Rollo leapt lightly onto the balcony once more. Then froze two steps before he entered the room. A candle was lit. He raced to lean against a column before she saw him. This was not as he planned. He had the sudden urge to leave. To give up the fight. To disappear into the night as he planned. Why was it the gods never showed him any small favors? He was thwarted at every turn. He had to go, what else could he do?

He could wait.

He shook his head at the thought. It seemed like a very "un-Rollo" thing to do. He had never done anything like it in the past. He was a man of great passion and will. A man who was never afraid to leap into the fray or face down whatever dared to cross his path. Biding his time was departure from all of that.

If he was patient, in a small way, he would no longer be Rollo of Kattegat. He would be a new Rollo. A Rollo he had not known before. It occurred to him that perhaps he would need to change himself slightly if he was to win the princess over. Perhaps, Gisla needed this new Rollo to be her husband.

For what felt like the first time in his life Rollo tempered his need to fearlessly charge into the unknown or die trying. Instead he sat as still as stone and watched the moon climb high into the night sky. A peaceful quiet entered the chamber behind him and he knew he had made the right decision.

With a soft tread he walked into the room. The gentle snores of Gisla echoed through the chamber. She was quite beautiful covered in the soft light of the flame, but darkness still suited his purposes best. He licked the tips of his fingers and snuffed the candle out by pinching the base of the flame. The room fell into darkness.

He walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in between the covers. The change of lighting must have disturbed her. He felt her shift about the bed as she entered wakefulness.

"You are here again." She mumbled.

"Yes I am. Now go back to sleep it is late." He chided her.

"Why did you put out my light?" She said, her voice filled with a dreamy confusion.

"I did not wish to have it on."

"Why?"

"I did not think you would wish to see me."

She reached out to take his hand, "You are mistaken, I find no greater pleasure than having you here with me. How do you not know that?"

He leaned towards her and kissed her soundly. It was moments like these when he could fully realize his own love for her, despite all the problems that still existed between them.

"I do know that you enjoy having me here, but still I think that if you were to look upon me you would feel quite a fright." He whispered to her, their noses nearly pressed together.

She was quite for a time and Rollo wondered if she had fallen back asleep. Suddenly one of her hands descended on his face and her fingers began to fumble over his features.

"What is it you are doing?" He asked as he pulled her wrist away from his face in an attempt to keep her fingers out of his eye.

"I am trying to feel if you are hideous or deformed in some way." She said as she tried to move her hand back down towards his face.

"And why would you think I was that way?" He said still keeping her hand away from him, and feeling slightly offended.

"Because why else would you put out the light? You said your look would frighten me."

"Very well," he conceded, realizing his own mistake, "but you must tell me what it is you find."

He let her lower her hand back down to his face and she began to feel around, this time she was less erratic with her movements as she let the tips of her fingers drift over his features.

"You have a beard." She began as she traced her fingers over his cheek and jawbone.

"Do you like it?"

"Hmm, I do not know. But yours at least feels thick and not scraggily like many men insist on keeping theirs."

"It is thick, and it was longer too until I had it trimmed trying to impress a woman."

"Did that impress her?"

"I do not think so. In fact, I know so. She openly scorned me in front of her friends for it."

"She sounds like a shrew." Gisla spat, "I would not pay mind to her any longer if I were you."

A deep rumble of a laugh escaped him, "And I would not judge her so harshly if I were you."

"And why not? I am a well behaved woman, and would never do anything to bring dishonor to a good man."

"You think me a good man?" Rollo spoke up suddenly.

"Yes I do," Gisla told him fervently, "but tell me about this other woman?"

A smile flicked across Rollo's face. Was she jealous? He liked the idea of that.

"Which other woman?" He teased her.

Gisla sighed in frustration, "The one you just spoke of. The one you trimmed your beard for. The one who is haughty and disrespectful."

"Oh, that one," Rollo said pretending like he was just realizing who she was speaking of. "Yes she may be haughty there is no doubt of that, but she is very young and unsure of herself. I think in time these things could change. But there are good things about her too, she is very brave, braver than most men. And she has a very noble spirit."

Gisla stayed very still and did not answer after hearing these words. Perhaps he had made her too jealous.

She must have realized how apparent she was making her feelings towards him and began to speak again, "Let us see, now where were we?"

"You were telling me that you liked my beard."

"I never said that I liked it, but what else is there to your face?" She said as she began to move her hand again, "You have a nice nose, but it does not feel very Frankish."

"Do the Franks have a certain kind of nose?"

She considered this for a moment, "Yes, I suppose we do, and you do not have it. Was your mother not Frankish?"

"No she was not."

"Ah," Gisla said and then continued to trace his features, "you have nice eyebrows and very good forehead too."

"Do you think me handsome?" Rollo asked, pleased that she could feel him wiggling his eyebrows in jest.

"You are very conceited." She laughed.

"And you are not answering my question."

"Yes, I think you are handsome," She admitted, "but what are these?" She asked as her hand drifted over the lines that marred his face.

"They are scars." He answered her.

"Oh, it that why you wish for there to be no light? They do not feel very deep."

"They are not deep, or very apparent I think."

"So they are not red or too discolored."

"No, I think they can only be seen in strong sunlight or if someone is very close to me."

She thoughtfully traced, and retraced the scars on his and he began to worry that she was disgusted by them. She then spoke again.

"What color are your eyes?" She asked.

"Hmm, I do not know very well, not blue."

"How do you know that they are not blue?"

"Because I have often been told that I do not have my brother's eyes. And his are blue"

"Are you compared to your brother often?"

"Yes, for most of my life I have been. But recently that has not been the case."

"Who is your brother? Do I know him?"

Rollo did his best to suppress a laugh, "I believe you have crossed paths once, and I do not think you cared for him very much."

Gisla grew very quiet again as if she were deep in thought about something. They did not speak for a long while and Rollo moved to pull her closer. "Sleep Gisla, it is very late."

"I am not tired." She said through a yawn.

"I think you are." He said tugging her closer.

"No I am not," she insisted, "I have been resting all day."

"How was your day? Did you have much pain?"

"No I did not have much pain. I think my time is almost over. My husband came to see me today, which I do not know what to make of that."

"What do you think he wanted with you?"

"He brought me food and expected me to eat with him."

"That seems like a small thing for a husband to want from his wife."

"Yes it is a small thing, but I still did not care for it very much."

Rollo felt his warrior spirit stir inside him, was she really this stubborn. "Oh, and why is that?"

"Well it is just– It is because– Oh, I do not know it is hard to explain." Gisla said in a distant voice.

"Because you are still afraid of him." Rollo said trying to hold back the anger that was growing inside him.

"No, I am not afraid of him any longer. I am just…unsure about his character."

Anger faded from Rollo. Perhaps he was making progress after all. Happiness replaced his wrath as she continued to speak.

"He has visited me before. Did you know that? He came to me the first day I stayed in bed. For all his faults I do not think he wishes for me to be ill."

"Does his concern mean anything to you?"

"I suppose it does. Though it is odd, he has never seemed very worried about me before."

A smile crossed Rollo's lips, "I do not think that is true."

"How would you know a thing like that?" Gisla asked sounding slightly offended.

"Because he did not seem pleased when saw you crying at the wedding, and he did not force himself upon you after the marriage. That shows a certain amount of concern, does it not?"

"Yes I suppose it does." Gisla said in a far of voice as if she had just had a very deep or profound thought.

 **Historical Note: "Why does Rollo not know what he looks like?" Most people did know what they looked like back in this time. There were no photographs of course and mirrors were both expensive and hard to come by.**

 **Author's Note: Please review, we are coming very close to the end of the story and if you have any thoughts please let me know them :)**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

As Gisla had predicted she was better the next morning. In many ways she wished she could stay in bed. She could feel that a change had taken place somewhere, somehow, even though she had not left her chambers in days.

She arrived at breakfast a little earlier than she usually did, though she was still late. She moved to the place she intended to sit and her husband stood up to greet her. He then stretched out his hand and offered her something across the table. It was a small clump of purple flowers. He gave her a broad smile as if encouraging her to take it.

All the blood in her body seemed to rush to her face and she froze for a moment. What should she do? She couldn't just remain frozen there like a half-wit. She reached out her hand to accept them and he pressed them into her palm. Though his hand seemed to linger near hers where it made contact. Upon noticing this she jerked her hand back as if she had been burned. Who was he to think he had the right to touch her so?

She then noticed how abrupt her motion must have seemed to those around her.

"Thank you." She mumbled. Gisla had lost some of her will to insult him ever since she had learned that he could at least understand some Frankish. She supposed it was not right for her to be too angry. He only seemed to want her to feel better. Suddenly she noticed how her father's gaze lingered on her and she sat down in a panic and wished she could disappear from the room entirely.

The meal seemed to pass at an erratic pace. Time seemed to slow as her father watched her as if expecting something, and then it would seem to speed up when her eyes would accidently meet her husbands. At certain parts of the meal she would ask her husband to pass her things and he would oblige. This caused her heart to leap into her throat. There was something very tangible about him now, like he was no longer simply an object to be laughed at or ignored. It was no longer so easy for her to think of him as something less than human now that he knew her words.

When the meal was over Rollo and Gisla rose from the table at the same time. The corner of her husband's mouth twitched up and he looked at her with an eager almost childlike face. She hated that he did this; it was almost like he was viewing a part of her that she wished to keep hidden. She reached for the flowers he had given her and was about to leave the room in haste when her father stopped her.

"My daughter, I would like for you to stay and speak with me after the meal."

"Yes, father." She said with a curt nod and then sat back down.

Her husband returned to the table and began to take his seat before Charles spoke up.

"It is alright Duke Rollo. You do not need to stay here. Go to tend to your lessons the words I have our only for Gisla."

Her husband glanced between the two of them until his eyes caught on Gisla. It was almost as if he was asking for her permission to leave as well. As if he wanted to tell her that he would stay with her if she wished.

"You may leave now…Rollo." She told him, adding his name on to the end for it no longer seemed fit to not address him.

He gave her one last concerned glance as if giving her time to be sure enough.

She could not help but give him the faintest of smiles, "It is alright," she reassured him, "you may go."

A small smile crossed his face as well and he nodded in acknowledgment and left.

Charles waited until Rollo was well out of the room before he began to speak to Gisla. "My daughter I wish to know if your opinion of your husband is still unchanged? I have been informed that he has paid you visits lately."

Gisla's heart dropped for a moment. The idea of her father talking behind her back was an uncomfortable truth. She picked her words carefully before answering, "I suppose he is not quite as bad as I first thought, and perhaps he could be a help in defending the city." She glanced back down to her wine glass and took a sip.

"So you still desire to divorce him?"

Gisla knew this question was coming and tried to conceal any emotion on her face, "Yes, but perhaps we could find him another woman to be his wife. He may not have to leave the city."

Charles sighed in annoyance, "Oh my daughter, do you not know that there are so many worse men to marry? Men who do not follow the rule of thumb. Men who would never be so patient with you."

"I just admitted that I did not think he was a bad man! I simply do not wish to be married to–"

Charles held up a hand to silence her, "Do you know what he asked the first morning you were missing?"

"He spoke?"

"Yes," Charles said, and then glance up wistfully, "he used his stumbling, childish words to ask where you were."

* * *

Rollo was overcome by the feeling of gaiety within him. It had been so long since he last felt this way. Scores of years must have passed since he felt so youthful.

Gisla's opinion of him was changing. And not just the opinion she held of the man in the night; the one of the true him, Rollo the Northman. There was still hope for him. His step held a certain lightness to it as he walked into Abbot Lupus' chambers.

"Are there some good tidings I do not know about?" The old man asked with a smile.

"Yes, Gisla is warming to me."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Gisla felt the mattress shift under the weight of her visitor. She was glad he was here and for once she could think of no reason he should go away. She moved towards him and wrapped her arms around him. For all that his secrecy annoyed her, it also caused her to feel great ownership of him. To her it was as if he only existed in her bed. He was only hers.

As her arms closed around him, his did the same to her. He was so warm and strong. His movements were fierce, and yet she felt so protected and safe. For a brief moment she wondered if this was what it was like to be married. If every night a married woman would be able to look forward to a tender moment like this. The thought gave her a sudden thrill which she did not expect. Marriage to her had always been something she did not wish to partake in. She did not wish to be dominated, ignored, and owned by some man. But this, this was different.

"I am happy you are here," she whispered to him.

"And I am happy to be here," he said, and then placed a kiss on the top of her forehead. "How was your day?"

"The same as most days. The evening rain made me miss my walk, and my father had a private audience with me."

"What did your father wish to speak to you about," he asked with concern.

"He wanted to talk to me about the Northman. He wished to know if I was still seeking a divorce from him."

"And are you," the man asked, his voice filled with urgency.

Gisla let out a sigh as she thought, "Yes, I suppose I am. I do not think he would be a bad husband, but I do not want this marriage and never have. Also I learned something."

"What did you learn?" An unreadable emotion lingering in his voice.

"He can speak. Rollo, I mean, can speak a little Frankish."

"What? You heard him!"

"No, no, of course not. My father told me this. I think I have been far too unkind to him for him to try and speak to me. That is one of the reasons I wish to leave him. I do not think we are well suited for each other. Though I think in his own way he has tried to show me kindness."

"Truly? What has he done?"

"He brought me flowers today. And he seemed to want to stay with me when my father requested my presence. It was almost as if– No, that sounds silly."

"What?"

"It was almost as if he wanted to stay with me, and…protect me."

For some unexplainable reason the man suddenly clutched her a little closer to his person, and stroked his hand over her arm and side in a comforting motion. There was so much passion in it, like a wave crashing over the ocean, or lightning tearing through the sky. What a strange thing to do, Gisla thought.

"He is not as bad as I thought at first, and thinking back I do not think this is the first time he has tried to be of aid to me. That is why I hope when the marriage is over another woman can be found to be his wife."

A suddenly as the hug had started it was released, as if he no longer wanted her. Gisla could not understand what had happened. But the tenderness between them seemed to have been broken.

Annoyance filled his voice when he spoke again, "Oh, and what is it you plan to do when the marriage is over?"

"I– I do not know. Perhaps, I will join a convent and devote my life to God." Then in an effort to win his favor back added, "You could still come and visit me there, could you not?"

"No I could not," he answered her.

"And why not? Nothing will have changed from what it is now."

"Because would I be allowed to do this to you if you have sworn off all men?" His lips suddenly met with Gisla's and she felt as if she was drowning and on fire at the same time. His kiss stirred some kind of wild beast within her, and all she wanted was more. She wanted to be consumed by this feeling.

The kiss broke and Gisla felt her chest heave as she gulped for air. Had she been holding her breathe in the excitement?

To her great annoyance she had the distinct feeling that the man was perfectly aware of how breathless he had left her. And he seemed to enjoy it. A laugh tainted his voice as he said, "See, you would no longer allow me to do such things. So what could persuade me to come to your bed again?"

"But I thought you cared for me," Gisla said in dismay.

"I do care for you, but it is you who wishes to leave me. How am I at fault?"

"I did not say I wished to leave you," Gisla said, frustrated that he was twisting her words, "I simply said that I wished to divorce my husband, and not marry again."

"Would you marry a man like me?"

Shock filled Gisla at his forwardness, "You should not ask such things of me. I am a married woman."

"Yes, but you will not be married for long."

"Well… that does not matter. And I have never entertained such a thought." Gisla lied. "Besides there is still so much about you that I do not know."

The man seemed amused at her hurried explanation, "Oh, and what is it that you wish to know about me?"

"Anything," Gisla blurted out, and then realizing how desperate she sounded continued in a calmer voice, "I simply know nothing about you. I do not even know enough to find you during the day. How can you ask such a thing of me when I do not even know your Christian name?"

His deep laugh rumbled through the room, "Would you like to know my Christian name?"

"Yes." Gisla insisted.

"Fine, but it will do you no good. I do not answer to it."

"That is fine," Gisla responded, grateful to receive any sort of clue form him.

"It is Robert."

"Robert," Gisla repeated, letting the word slowly roll off her tongue, "that is not a Frankish name."

"I was not given the name in Frankia," he said seemingly pleased with his simple explanation.

"So that is your Christian name. Now tell me the name you have given yourself."

"I did not give it to myself," he answered quickly as if the idea was preposterous.

"But you said that you do not answer to your Christian name. How else does one gain a name except from baptism or theft?"

"It is what my mother called me."

"But surely she would have had you baptized with whatever name she wished for you to be known by?"

"She was not at my baptism," The voice answered, his tone soft and distant.

Gisla immediately realized her mistake, "Forgive me, I should have understood that she only had a small chance to name you, before she left this earthly kingdom."

A laugh tore through the room and Gisla was shocked at anyone laughing at something so tragic.

"How can you find levity in such grim events? It is your own mother that I speak of–"

"I laugh because you are mistaken. My mother did not die soon after having me. She was not there because she was not a Christian."

This news mortified Gisla to the core. Who was this stranger in her bed?

"How little I know you," Gisla said, suddenly feeling the urge to inch away form him.

"Yes, we do not know much of each other, but we know enough, I think."

This confused Gisla, "You speak in riddles, I do not know what you mean."

He tugged her a little closer to himself, "I mean, that I know that you are strong, and brave, and determined, and that we are equals. That is enough for me for now."

The idea of equality between them was beginning to grow on Gisla and she let herself relax against his embrace.

After a long quiet moment between them Gisla spoke again, "Please, what is your name?"

He took the liberty to stroke her hair before speaking and Gisla was sure he was going to answer.

"You are forgetful, Princess, I told you you would have to guess my name."

* * *

They taunted and teased each other late into the night over if it was fair that he demand she be able to guess his name. Soon Gisla tired and fell into a gentle sleep. Rollo was beyond pleased at the progress that was happening between them. Though it still troubled him that she wanted a divorce from him, and yet she wanted him to still visit her once that had happened. Would this always be the way it was between them, a slap and an embrace at once. He hoped he could bring her around to seeing his true identity for herself, before it was too late.

A restlessness came over Rollo as he tried to find sleep. He was too hot. Frankia was so much warmer than what he was accustom to. And the thick sheet and Gisla's own heat were not helping. He tossed and turned trying to find a cool spot in the bed, but it was no use. His skin felt like it was crawling with a thousand stinging ants. In an act of desperation, he took off his tunic and let it fall to the floor. The relief was immediate. Sleep soon found him and he embraced the feeling of being cool and at peace.

Rollo awoke to morning light flooding the room, and he realized with a start that he had over slept. He glanced down at Gisla and heaved a sigh of relief that she was fast asleep. But the rest of the palace was not. Footsteps could be heard outside of the door and Rollo bolted from the bed and sprinted towards the balcony. Completely forgetting about his tunic on the way out.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

A great commotion in the room stirred Gisla to wakefulness. She cracked her eyes to see daylight flooding through her window. A moment ago there seemed to be so much movement around her she wondered if a bird had become trapped in her room. The sound of the door handle turning caught her attention. Perhaps she had only been hearing the sounds of her women preparing to wake her. She closed her eyes again wishing to go back to sleep. She should not have stayed up so late, today would be another eventful day. So many tasks to finish, so many duties to attend.

"What is this?" Eleanor suddenly asked.

Gisla's eyes snapped open and she turned her head to see what Eleanor was holding. It seemed to be a kind of white cloth with gold embroidery. Suddenly the realization of what it was struck her. It was a man's tunic. A thousand emotions seemed to fill Gisla all at once. There was only one way that something like that could have ended up on her floor, and that was if he visitor had discarded it in the night.

She jerked herself into an upright position. "Eleanor, pass that here," she said with urgency.

Confusion covered the face of the maid, but she willingly obeyed her mistress. However, it was too late. Another figure entered the room. It was the matron and her gray eyes were honed on the fabric in the maid's hand.

"What is that you are giving her," She asked in a stern voice, as if she already knew.

* * *

Rollo heard a knock at the door to his room, which surprised him. He was accustom to being ignored during the morning. He had made it quite clear some time ago that he was capable of arriving at breakfast on his own, and that he did not wish for any assistance in dressing what so ever.

He rummaged through his wardrobe to find another tunic and outer robe to wear. Once he had found what he was looking for he dressed, and opened the door. To his great surprise he found Count Odo waiting outside.

The fat man forced a smile upon his face and then began to speak in an overly happy and slow fashion, "Good morning Duke Rollo, I am sorry to disturb you at this early hour, but you must come with me."

Rollo made no movement as he tried to think of a reason his presence would be required.

Count Odo's face fell and he tried again, "You…must… _come_ …with… _me_." He waved his hand towards himself as if beckoning a dog or small child.

Rollo decided to keep up his ruse, and let a large smile cover his face. "Ahh…come," he said giving a nod.

Odo nodded with enthusiasm, "Yes, come." He then motioned for Rollo to follow.

Rollo did his best to mask the unease he was feeling as he followed Odo. He could not help but feel some nervousness, it had not escaped him that the Frankish court was treacherous and that he was still thought of as a threat by many. He had been careful though, hadn't her? Just a few days ago he had hinted that he had plans for what to do with the marshes that surrounded the first two towers. This was his method of keeping himself useful, he would only tell the Frankish his plan one small piece at a time.

Soon Rollo's fears abated as he realized he was being led down the familiar corridors that led to Abbot Lupus' teaching room. Rollo was pleased to see that the abbot was there when he walked through the doors. But the abbot did not seem to be in his usual congenial mood.

Odo closed the door behind him and then looked between the two men before saying, "Do you wish to tell him, or should I?"

Lupus considered this for a moment, and then answered, "I think it would be best if I told him."

"And you are certain you can…make him understand?"

"Yes, I am certain. You may leave us."

* * *

Gisla stood in the middle of the empty throne room waiting for her father to enter. Never in her life had she ever found herself in such a position. Her father had always spoken to her privately in a far less formal way. She was his own child after all. She was a princess after all; her rank made her only second to him. Did this mistake cause all of that to change?

How could she make her father understand that this was not her fault. It had all happened so suddenly. No. It had happened slowly. Gisla shook her head in her own confusion. She was not sure which way it was. All she knew was that she had not intended for any of this to happen. She hadn't done anything wrong after all, had she?

The thought made her blood run cold. Perhaps she had. She had never concerned herself with the teachings of the Church on what things a woman was permitted to do with a man before it became a sin. She had always thought that such knowledge was for lesser, and fallen women. Not a woman like her.

With mortification she recollected the many kisses she had shared with her visitor. And her heart felt like it might stop when she thought of how she enjoyed some of those kisses, especially the one last night. Surely, that had to be sinful. And then there were all those times she had even gone so far as to _invite_ him into her bed. What was she thinking?

The door to the antechamber opened. Gisla watched as her father entered. In his hand he clutched the condemning piece of clothing, and Gisla realized she would have to answer for this.

* * *

Rollo waited for the fat man to be well out of the room and then turned to Abbot Lupus. "What is this all about?"

"Take a seat, Rollo," the old man said while moving around the desk to sit in his own spot.

The delay annoyed Rollo, but he reluctantly sat down.

"Well…" Rollo prompted.

The abbot cleared his throat, as if to pause as he found the right words, then said, "The emperor wishes for you to consummate your marriage with Gisla. Tonight, if possible."

Rollo felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something was not right. "Why? He has not spoken of this for weeks now."

Lupus rolled his jaw as if pondering what to say, which only increased Rollo's anxiety.

"Tell me."

The abbot met his gaze and then seemed to be able to find the words. "There has been some evidence that Gisla has committed adultery against you." He then lowered his voice, "They did not want you to know this, but I respect you too much to hide this from you. They wanted to see what she said after they questioned her. I do–"

"Where is Gisla!" Rollo said as he leapt to his feet.

The abbot looked at him in surprise, "She is in the throne room, but…"

Rollo did not hear anything else the man had to say. He had to go to her, and confess if necessary. These Christians seemed to forget that they were suppose to be merciful when it came to punishing unfaithful women.

He would not let this happen to her, even if it meant ruining everything.

* * *

"Gisla, do you know why I have left this room empty," Charles asked her from his throne.

She let her eyes drift across the long stretch of floor and fall on his face, but she could think of no words to say.

Charles realizing that she was unable or unwilling to speak continued, "You are here because I do not think I could bear for others to know the depths of the depravity that my own daughter has fallen to. Whose is this," he asked, holding up the tunic.

"I do not know," Gisla whispered as tears began to fall.

Charles leaned back in his throne and Gisla watched as his eyes grew cold and distant. "You must speak up. I cannot hear you. Who does this belong to?"

"I said that I do not know," Gisla sobbed out.

"And how is it that you do not know? Have there already been so many?" Charles gazed down at the tunic in his grasp before continuing, "You once called to a room crowded with people that you were not a cheap whore." He then ran his thumb along the gold trimmed collar of the tunic. "No, not a _cheap_ whore, indeed."

Gisla began to cry harder. All her life she had been so careful of her reputation, so careful that no one would have even implied such a thing about her. Now her own father had insulted her with words she had feared her whole life.

"Please, father," she begged.

Charles reared his head back, and she could see that he was hardening his heart against her.

"Please," she repeated and then stepped closer hoping that he could see the agony he was causing her.

"I did not say that you could approach," Charles scolded her.

She continued anyway, her tears flowing freely. Why should she not be close to him? She was his child. He was her father. She fell to her knees at his feet. "Please, father. It was a mistake that I regret sincerely. If I could go back, I would never allow myself to be such a fool. But please don't treat me so. I am your daughter. Have mercy."

"How can I have mercy on someone who insists on bringing so much shame to me?"

"I did not mean for any of this to happen. And I have not brought you shame. All my life I have tried to be brave and upright, both for you and the people of Paris. How can you forget all of this now?"

"I can forget when you refused to obey both me and God, by refusing to lay with you husband because you say you value your purity. When in truth you are nothing, but a depraved woman."

"No! You don't understand! I have not lain with anyone. The man was only in my chambers. But no man has known me in that way."

Charles shot her a scathing glance, "Are you certain? I could have physicians examine you and they would know. Don't lie to me."

"Yes, father I am certain."

Charles' face lightened. "So all is not lost," he said to himself, and then looked to Gisla. "Your husband will be brought to you tonight and you will complete the marriage."

Gisla felt herself lose all hope again, "Please father, I am not ready for this, and do not want this marriage. How can you bear condemning me to such a fate?"

Charles looked down at her with stone cold eyes, "I could bear watching him rape you before my own eyes if it meant protecting my throne."

* * *

Rollo was relieved to remember a shortcut across the courtyard that would bring him towards Gisla faster. He wished he had more time to think of how he was going to explain, but there was none.

He skidded around the shrubbery, nearly losing his footing on the loose gravel as he ran. To his surprise he saw Gisla was in the garden too. She was sitting on a bench, clutching he hand to her mouth and weeping. His heart felt as if it had been pierced. What had he done?

He knew that he had to go to her. He had to give some sort of explanation. He moved towards her, and tried to think of the words to say. He never wanted his silly scheme to end like it was some elaborate joke. He simply wanted to help her see that he was more than a disgusting savage, now all of that was lost.

She did not seem to see him through her tears as he approached. But when she finally looked up she cringed at the very sight of him. And Rollo knew that in this moment she was not ready to hear him.

* * *

Gisla tried to stop the steady flow of tears that was covering her face. She was a high born woman, bred for leading nations and controlling countries, surly she could control her own emotions. But she could not. No matter how hard she tried she could not stop herself from crying.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure approaching. She glanced up to see the Northman. What was he doing here? Had they already fetched him so soon? Was he going to drag her away to her bed chambers? Or maybe he would defile her out in the open like her father implied? Bile rose up in her throat at this thought, and she began to cry with more intensity. What did it matter now? She could do nothing to stop it. Her own father had turned his back on her. No one in the world loved her now.

Gisla jumped with fright when she felt a gentle weight on both her shoulders. She looked up to find that Rollo had taken off his outer robe, and was now in the process of draping it around her shoulders. It was such an odd, un-Frankish thing to do, yet Gisla did not think she minded this very much. He took a seat beside her, and wrapped an arm around her. There was no demand in his touch, though Gisla went stiff with uncertainty.

Soon it occurred to Gisla that whatever Rollo was doing he was willing to be patient. They sat together in the stillness of the garden, and slowly Gisla began to feel herself stop crying. He dipped his head down next to hers and began to whisper to her in his strange language. He had done this before, but during those times Gisla had only ever heard the grunts of a savage. This time was different. There was something soothing in his voice, that she had not noticed until now. It was almost as if she had heard the voice a hundred times before. Even his foreign words did not sound so terrible, she knew none of them, yet she thought perhaps he was trying to comfort her.

He finished speaking and then gave Gisla a reassuring squeeze, almost a mix between a hug and a clap on the back. Then he stood up and strode off as if heading to deal with some great task. Leaving Gisla wrapped in his robe, and wondering why she ever feared the Northman.

 **Author's Note: Bet you didn't see this twist coming. I hope you liked it just the same. I feel like I have been working on this chapter for ages as I tried to get it right.**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Rollo went to Gisla's chambers again that night. He wondered how she would receive him after today's events. He had not meant for any of this to happen to her. In fact, when he realized that he had left his tunic behind he had hoped for a brief moment that she would solve the mystery herself and come to accept him. None of that had happened though and in some ways he was glad. She was not ready to know that it was him yet. He learned this when she cringed at the mere sight of him in the garden. But she was closer to accepting him. She had allowed him to sit with her, to be near her, to comfort her. And when he spoke to her in his language she did not act repulsed, instead she listened. And even though she did not understand anything he said he told her once again that she was his wife and that he would not let any harm come to her.

He had stayed true to his promise and as soon as he had left her in the garden went back to Abbot Lupus and demanded to know the full extent of what had happened. When he was told he insisted that nothing of the sort ever happen to Gisla again. The abbot tried to explain that any punishment she faced she deserved, for adultery was a grave sin. Rollo had an inspired thought and answered back that since he was Gisla's husband it was a sin against him, and so he should get to decide if Gisla was punished or not. Lupus seemed pleased that Rollo had been paying attention to his religious lessons after all. Rollo did not know why. He did not mind learning about Christianity, he sometimes even found it interesting. But what the abbot failed to notice is that Rollo did not believe any of these new teachings.

With the help of Abbot Lupus, Rollo successfully relayed a message to Emperor Charles that he was not pleased about what had happened to Gisla. The Emperor was apparently frightened of the idea that he had upset Rollo. It disgusted Rollo further that the man was such a coward. The man was weakling and would have never been able to distress Gisla if he were not her own father. Rollo was then sent assurances that nothing would happen to Gisla without his consent and felt relief.

However, Gisla was not present at dinner which worried him. He saw that a platter of food was put together and sent to her. He feared she might grow ill from weeping.

He could hear her crying as he entered the room. It was so very much like the first night he had come to her. Only this time he was not entirely blameless for her tears. He moved to his side of the bed and began to climb in when his hand brushed up against something metal. It was the platter he had sent her. It was still heavy and full of food. He doubted that she had eaten any of it.

The noise he made moving the tray stirred Gisla from her crying. She gave a loud sniff and then said, "You must leave. It is not safe for you to stay here this night."

She choked the words out through her tears and Rollo did not have the heart to tease her. "Oh, and why is that," he asked sincerely.

"Because he is coming."

"Who?"

"My husband."

Rollo felt his heart falter. She was still afraid of him. He must have only imagined that she felt otherwise.

"And you are still afraid of him?" He wanted to hear her thoughts, though he was afraid that he already knew the answer.

"I– No. I am not afraid of him. It is not that." Rollo felt his spirits lift at her words. She was not afraid. He had not deceived himself about this. "My father is having him sent here tonight to finish the marriage."

For once it felt like it was Gisla who was speaking in riddles. She said that she was not afraid of him, yet in her next breath she seemed upset that he was coming.

"Are you upset that you will have to stay married to him? Is that why you were crying?"

"No, I was not upset over that. Not truly I do not think."

Her words puzzled him. "I do not understand what you mean."

Gisla let out a sigh. "It is hard to explain. I have come to the conclusion that my husband is not the worst sort of man to be married to. But this is still not the way I wished for things to be. I had always hoped to have a choice. But none of these things were the reason I was crying."

He climbed into the bed and sat next to her, "What was the reason then?"

"It is none of your concern," she answered in a stilted voice.

"Is it because of your father?"

She gasped as if someone had just pressed on a fresh wound. She did not speak for a moment and Rollo was sure she was thinking of a new insult to use against him.

He was wrong. Instead she broke into a new round of tears and she whispered, "Yes."

Rollo moved to be closer to her, and drew her up so that she could sit next to him and lean against the headboard. She did not know it, but when he placed his arm around her they were sitting in the same way as they had in the garden hours earlier.

She rested her head against his chest and began to cry harder. "I do not think that my father loves me," she wailed.

Rollo moved his hand up to stroke her hair, but could find no words to say. He agreed with her.

He let her cry for a time and then spoke, "Gisla all this weeping will make you ill. Stop for a moment and have something to eat."

"I am not hungry," she muttered.

"That does not matter. Eat something anyway." He reached for the food on the tray. He was pleased that the first thing his hand touched were the two plumbs he had put on the plate. He had chosen them carefully and both were so plump and ripe that the thin skin of the fruit was about to burst.

"Here eat this," he said, and pressed the fruit into her hands.

"I do not want it. Here, you have it."

"No, I already have one. There were two. One for you and one for me. Just put it to your nose and smell it. You will see how sweet it is."

"I am not hungry," she insisted.

"It is sweet enough to make you hungry."

He could almost sense her rolling her eyes in the darkness.

"Very well," she finally agreed.

He heard her take a bite, followed quickly by a second and a third one.

He smiled to himself, pleased with the progress. He then coaxed her into eating some of the sweet bread, and salted meats. These were all of his favorite foods to eat, and he was sure they would help her feel better. Food could sometimes be the best sort of comfort.

After she had eaten she seemed quieted and content, and Rollo wished he would have been able to make her feel this way on the first night that they were married. He had only ever wanted her to know that she was his wife, and that he would look after her.

He helped clear the dishes and food from the bed and then climbed back in under the covers. She moved towards him and tangled her arms around him. It was fierce and possessive embrace, and he loved the feeling of being so wanted. They fell asleep in each other's arms and Rollo had never been more pleased.

Some time in the night Rollo felt light fingers running across his face again. Each stroke carefully running over each of his features.

"Gisla?" He questioned into the night.

He heard her gasp and withdraw her hand.

"Do you still not know who I am?"

"No," Gisla answered with a hint of sadness. "Though I think I am close. I just need a few more hints."

"Oh, what kind of hint do you need?"

"I need to know who you are."

"That is not a hint," Rollo said, and then rolled away and pretended to go back to sleep.

She let out an angered huff, "I have known you for so long. I think I should have a right to know by now."

"You do not have a right. I have already told you that you must guess who I am. Besides have you ever asked, instead of trying to be sly and discover on your own."

"I have asked! And all you told me is that you are a very strong and important man."

Memories of their first nights together came flooding back to him. He had forgotten that she once did ask who he was. "I think those should be good enough hints of who I am. They are very distinct."

"No they are not distinct. I search for you each day and do not find you."

"Then you should look harder. I am often in plain sight."

"That cannot be, I would know you then. Please just give me some small sign, I will recognize you then I am sure."

She sounded desperate to Rollo and he wondered if perhaps he had waited long enough.

He gave a deep sigh, "I have something I can give to you, but you must give me a promise of equal weight."

"What sort of promise could that be?"

"A promise that if I give it to you it is entirely up to you to recognize me and not the other way around. I have helped you enough. I will give it to you in good faith that you will know me as well as I know you."

"That does not sound like too much of a pledge to make."

"But it is. For you have failed to recognize me day after day, and week after week."

"Maybe I have, but I am sure with some small sign I will know who you are. I agree to your promise."

"Then take this. It is my greatest treasure, and the ring I have sworn all my oaths on. Take it as a sign that I love and care for you."

She held out her hand and waited for a ring to be placed around her finger, but instead a large bracelet encompassed her hand and slid over her wrist.

"It is quite heavy," Gisla said, not knowing what else to say.

"Can the brave Princess of Paris not lift it?"

"Yes, I can lift it," She said and then gently slapped his arm with the hand he had placed the ring on. "You are so impossible I should not even care who you are. You are nothing but trouble."

"If that is how you feel," he said, and then reached around her wrist to grab the bracelet from her. Gisla was able to snag the ring with her fingers before he was able to take it away.

"What? I thought you said you didn't want it," he said and gave the ring a playful tug.

"I did not say that! Why must you always misunderstand me? Besides, you promised."

"I suppose I did," he said. And then let go of the ring so that it fell around he wrist again.

He felt her move around slightly, and thought that she was perhaps moving the ring up her arm so that it was under he sleeve and he could not snatch it again. She then turned her back to him and muttered, "You are such an exhausting person."

"Is it not a good thing to be tired at night?"

"Perhaps," she whispered and then moved back so that her body was pressed against his.

Rollo woke and felt content. His arm was wrapped around Gisla's waist and his nose was touching the nape of her neck. He felt warm and well rested, and he could not help but notice that her hair smelled nice. It was a small thing, but why should he not enjoy it?

He wished he could stay with her, but day was about to break and he thought it would be best to be gone before anyone saw him.

He untangled his arm from around her and she began to stir.

"Stay with me." She called to him, still half asleep.

A smile tugged at his lips. She must have no idea how much the idea tempted him. "No, it was only last night that we agreed that it would be you who found me and not the other way around."

Gisla rolled over and mumbled into her pillow, "What difference does it make? That was so long ago."

He laughed. "It was only a few hours ago. You did promise."

"Just a few moments, please," she said reaching back to tug him closer.

He moved back and embraced her. Then placed a kiss on her cheek and then her lips. In that moment he swore he had never been more in love with any woman. "You are just trying to trick me into staying long enough to see me. Do not fret I will be back sooner than you think."

With that he pulled away and left the room.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Gisla woke to the sensation of being cold and alone. He was gone and she missed him. She wished he was still here. Gisla had been on her own in one way or another since her mother died. And from there she had to learn from a tender age to trust no one but herself, other people would only ever try and hurt you. Even her own father had betrayed her by handing her over in marriage. Confirming the worst of her fears. She was truly alone.

And then everything changed. She was no longer on her own. She had a someone. For so long she did not realize how heavy the burden of being her only friend and protector was until she had someone to share it with. When he was with her things were good, and she had to find him so that they would stay that way.

She slipped the ring from around her upper arm, and out from under her dress sleeve. When she finally laid eyes on it she could say in all honesty that she had never seen the like of it. The arch of the bracelet was hundreds of woven silver strands, all twisting together to make a curved rope. Binding off each side of the rope were two ornately carved wolf heads, that were positioned face to face so that they were always snarling at each other across the small gap that was between them.

This was not a Frankish design, in fact she had never seen anything like it. Gisla was familiar with fine jewelry from far and wide, and could not think of a design like this. There was no jade, so it was not of oriental origin. And wolves did not seem like the kind of design the merchants of the East would use. From what she understood they did not like dogs, she doubted they would like wolves. Wolves did not belong to the warm, sandy places the traders came from. Wolves belonged to cool and rugged places, like the wild parts of Frankia or lands further North.

"North," her mind repeated.

She dropped the ring as if it had suddenly caught fire.

Could it be? If the ring was from the North there was only one man who could have given it to her. Only one man who could have been in bed with her. A wave of emotion rushed through her. It almost seemed too strange to be true.

The sound of her door unlatching tore her from her thoughts, and she hurriedly shoved the ring back around her wrist and concealed it under her sleeve.

She looked up to find the man she had just been thinking of mere moments ago. What was he doing here?

She felt emotionally stilted as she looked at him. From the moment she first saw him he had stirred powerful emotions of fear and hatred. And now she found herself feeling almost nothing, as she tried to work out the great riddle of the man who stood before her.

When their eyes met he gave her his too large grin that she had often described as stupid, but was now realizing held its charms. She averted her eyes and pulled the covers up around her, as she realized she was still in her night clothes.

He seemed to notice her discomfort and let out a gentle laugh as if he knew something she did not. Her heart dropped like a wounded bird, as she realized what this secret might be. For a brief moment she thought she saw his eyes narrow, as if he had somehow read her mind. The look on his face was gone almost as soon as she realized it was there and she wondered if she had only imagined it.

He placed a tray of food onto the bed and climbed in without any hesitation. Gisla inched away to the far corner of the bed. She did not want him here until she understood who he was better.

If he was offended by her actions he made no sign of it, and began to go about preparing the food. He took the loaf and carved off a thick slice, and then slathered it with butter and honey.

Gisla was about to accuse him of gluttony when he passed the slice to her. She took it from him and was sure that he passed it to her in such a way that their hands had to meet more than was necessary.

The bread was so warm that the thick mixture of butter and honey had melted into every inch of the slice. And she could not help but give a small smile as the rich flavors filled her mouth with the first bite. It was on her second bite that she realized how intently he was watching her, and how pleased he seemed with himself as he looked on.

Gisla knew that this behavior should annoy her, but somehow she understood that he was only trying to be kind. After she was done with the bread he passed her one delicacy after another: poached pheasant eggs, salted meats, savory cheeses, and sweet summer fruits.

Gisla did not think she had ever indulged herself this much before in her entire life. And as she looked down at the remaining food she realized that he had not eaten any of it. She reached for the tray and picked up a plumb and offered it to him. He looked at her with slight confusion for a moment, and then moved his hand underneath Gisla's, so that his hand cradled her hand. Gisla thought this was a poor way to take the fruit from her and hastily dumped the fruit into his palm to keep their hands from touching further.

He let out an amused laugh at her actions, and Gisla thought for a moment that she recognized that laugh. As he ate Gisla began to think. In so many ways it could make sense that he was the nightly visitor. But then again there were still things that confused her. When did he learn to speak Frankish so effortlessly if it was him? And why would he simply not tell her?

And the visitor was clever, and had a mouth full of riddles and poetry. Watching the man in front of her lick the juice of the fruit off his fingers she found it difficult to think of him as anything more than a simpleton. And yet for all his faults he was kind.

He had not forced himself on her at the start of the marriage, he had been concerned when she was taken ill, he had stayed with her in the garden yesterday. And even now he was showing her kindness by bringing her food, so that she would not have to dine with her father.

Rollo began to move the dishes back onto the tray, and Gisla realized that he would be gone soon. She didn't want him to leave without knowing how grateful she was for what he had done for her. As he began to climb out of bed she realized that she might already be too late.

She leaned forward and gently clasped his wrist before he could leave. He looked back at her in surprise. And Gisla struggled to find the words to say.

"Thank you," she finally whispered to him.

She watched as a gentle smile dawned on his face. He leaned down and gently kissed her cheek, and in what felt like the next moment was almost out the door and gone. Leaving Gisla with her hand pressed against the spot he had kissed and full of a new kind of excitement.

"Could it be," she wondered to herself. Could he be the man who came to her at night? Perhaps she should guess, it would be as good as any other guess she could make.

Her mind then turned to all the times that her visitor had laughed at her. He always seemed so self assured that he was better than her. The idea of guessing wrong mortified her. She could already hear his taunting words if she wrongly accused him of being the heathen. The idea of playing the part of the fool enraged her.

She would not be guessing anyone's identity tonight. She would not need to; she would find a way to definitively prove who he was without harming her pride. It was time to show her visitor how clever she truly was.

 **Author's Note: A special thanks to Erwal for the amazing cover art. As always reviews are greatly appreciated.**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"Rollo are you paying attention," Abbot Lupus asked, tearing Rollo away from his daydream.

Rollo shook his head like a horse trying to get rid of a bothersome fly, "Yes," he answered hastily, and upon receiving a stern look from Lupus corrected himself, "No."

"I was showing you where your lands are on this map, do you recall how a map is used."

Rollo nodded, "Yes it is a picture of the world the way I would see it if I were a bird up in the sky." Rollo remembered the first time Lupus had explained this to him well. He had been amazed at how clever the Christians could be when it came to such things.

"My lands extend from here," he pointed pointed to the mouth of the river that ran through Paris, "to here." He placed his finger half way between the large bay.

Lupus nodded with enthusiasm, "So you have been paying attention to me after all."

Rollo was taken aback, "Of course I have been paying attention. You are a very learned man with much knowledge to share."

The abbot gave him a smile, "I know you have been, you are a good pupil. I was only joking."

Rollo felt filled with relief, after all, the time he had spent with Lupus he was glad he held him in high regard. Especially considering the turbulent beginning to their friendship.

"I do have to wonder, though, what is preoccupying your thoughts this morning?"

Rollo felt a guilty expression cover his face and knew he was acting as bashful as a boy just barely in his youth. "Gisla," he answered softly.

Lupus' face remained expressionless, "And has something changed between the two of you?"

Rollo opened his mouth and then stopped, unsure of how to answer or what to share.

"Forgive me," Lupus said, "there has been some idle gossip about the two of you and I had only wondered."

"She has warmed to me slightly, and likes me more I think," Rollo answered enigmatically, not wanting to reveal too much.

"And is there some hope she has grown to like you well enough to remain married to you?"

"I do not know. Why?"

The abbot let out a sigh, "I have delayed telling you in order not to worry you, but I have received word that the Cardinal will arrive any day now. The messenger seemed certain that the Cardinal would be willing to grant Gisla the divorce this time."

* * *

"Adelaide leave one of the candles lit tonight," Gisla instructed her servant.

"As you wish my lady," the servant said as she began to snuff the candles.

"No leave that one," Gisla said suddenly, "Snuff the ones on the candelabra but leave the one in the candlestick holder. I wish to be able to move with the light."

The servant gave her a questioning look but did as she was instructed. Gisla waited until the last of the servants were well out of the room before she got out of bed.

She picked up the candle and walked over to her balcony. Gisla took her time drawing all the curtains that divided her balcony from the room, making sure there was not crack from which light could escape. She would wait here until she heard noise from within the room. She gave herself a smug smile as she thought of the satisfaction she would feel when she stepped out from behind the curtain and the identity of the stranger was revealed to her. And for some reason, she didn't understand she could not picture anyone else, but Rollo being revealed in the candlelight.

As Rollo climbed onto the balcony again he was surprised to see a light cutting through the darkness. At first, he thought Gisla had left a candle lit again, but it was much too bright to be coming from inside her room. Hesitantly, he peaked onto the balcony from the tree.

To his surprise, he saw Gisla standing there. She was holding a single candle, and cupping her free hand around it as if she wanted to prevent it from giving off too much light. When Rollo saw that the curtains were drawn he realized what she was doing.

He had wondered how long it would take for her curiosity to get the better of her, but after all this time he was surprised that she did not know he came and went this way.

Her back was to him, and it did not take long for him to come up with a plan. He leaped onto the balcony landing as loudly as he could. As he predicted she first jumped with fright before turning to see what had happened. He was already thinking ahead of her, though. And as she turned he did as well so that he was now behind her without her seeing.

He tapped her on the right shoulder and as she whipped around to see who was there, he dodged left and was able to blow out the candle before she realized what was going on. Fearing that she still might be able to see him with the light of the half moon, he drew her into his arms and pulled her back behind the curtains.

He was now filled with the same passion that came from going into battle. An almost animalistic lust to take and dominate. And he spun her around and kissed her soundly on the lips.

* * *

Gisla's chest heaved with a mixture of pleasure and fear. Try as she might, she could not recall the events that led to her candle being snuffed and her being kissed.

It was both terrifying and exhilarating to have so completely lost control of the situation.

"Who are you," she asked, panting from the suddenness of the kiss.

A laugh echoed through the room, "I have told you, again and again, you must be the one to guess."

"Why should I listen to the demands of someone who sneaks around like a thief in the night?"

"Do not call me a thief I have never stolen anything from you," he teased.

"That is not true," Gisla said beginning to feel cross.

"No it is true, I have never taken anything of yours."

Gisla searched her mind to think of a way he was lying to her. Try as she might she could think of no correction she could make.

"Do you wish to be right," he suddenly asked her.

Before she could respond she felt his lips against her own, pressing down in a firm kiss.

"There," he said, "now you are right. I have stolen a kiss from you."

"How dare you," she whispered, but somehow she could not find a way to become as angry as she wanted to be for his actions.

"What? I thought you wanted to be right."

"You didn't give me a chance to answer."

"Are you angry?"

"Yes." But she knew that was not the emotion she was feeling at all.

"Then steal it back, and we will be even."

Gisla's first instinct was to refuse, but she could not help that she wanted to kiss him again.

She stepped towards him but realized she was too short to steal anything from him. As if reading her mind, he picked her up off of the floor and held him level with himself. And she leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on his lips.

He set her back down on the floor, and said, "There, now we are even."

Gisla was annoyed at how satisfied he sounded, for she did not feel satisfied at all. She could not escape the feeling that there was something she was missing out on. Something she wanted to do with him, but even she herself did not know what. All she knew was that she would not be satisfied until it happened.

"Please," she whispered.

"What," he replied, and she could feel him moving in for another kiss.

She pulled away, "Please, tell me. Is there something more than kissing? I feel… I fell as if there is and I want it."

A small sound escaped him, a sigh or perhaps a groan. And his hands fell away from her, and she worried she had offended him.

"There is," he finally answered her, "but it is what your father is displeased at you for not doing with you husband."

"Oh," Gisla said feeling naïve. She did not know how she could not have thought about that. She only wished to be closer to him, and did not realize that that is what it would mean. All of her knowledge of what happened between a man and a woman was so abstract that it did not seem like it could have anything to do with the moments she shared with this man.

She felt him step closer to her and take both her hands. "But we could if you so wished."

"Would it not be wrong," she questioned.

"Do you love me," he asked without hesitation.

"Yes."

"Then that is better than being married. If you love me it is not wrong."

"Are you certain?"

"Gisla, I promise you that it is not wrong, and no one would be displeased if they discovered it."

He sounded so assured with himself that Gisla could not disbelieve him even if she tried. She did love him.

"Very well," Gisla said.

"Then you wish to continue?"

"I do."

He leaned down to kiss her again, but she stopped him before he could go further.

"Wait, there is something you must know," she said with a slight panic rising in her voice.

"What," Rollo asked, ceasing all motions as he waited for her to tell him.

"I do not- No, I have not- I have never…" Her words trailed off before she could finish, but Rollo guessed what she was going to say.

"You have never done this before?"

She hesitated for a moment and then answered, "Yes."

"And you have no idea what happens now, do you?"

"On the morning I was wed to Rollo the older women in my service told me to stay very quiet and to stay as still as I could when it happened to dissuade him from beating me. That is all I know."

Rollo reached out and clasped her hand in the darkness. He no longer wondered why she had wept through the whole of the wedding. Or why she had to be dragged into the bedchambers afterward.

"That is not true," he spoke with passion.

"What," she asked, confused by his sudden anger.

Rollo paused for a moment to think. He was not sure if when he spoke he was intending to tell her that he would have never beaten her or to correct the advice she had been given.

"It is not true what they told you," he said more calmly. "You don't need to keep still or quiet during this time. Not as long as you are with me."

"But I don't know-"

"Shh, I know, but it is not complicated. Just follow my lead. You will do well enough."

* * *

'You will do well enough.' Gisla liked the way he said those words. Because the way he said them did not make her feel like he found her merely adequate. The way he said it instead made her feel like he wanted to be here with her, and only with her. The circumstances did not matter to him.

"And you do not mind," she asked, wanting to be certain of his thoughts.

He let out a good-natured laugh, "No, I do not mind."

"Good," Gisla answered.

She was pleased that she would not have to be his inferior, that she would not have to be ashamed or afraid because of her lack of knowledge. She had avoided of the thought of such a night all of her life, only having a vague sense of awareness that this would be the night she could no longer escape the fact that she was a woman. She would have to submit to some man who was now her husband and soon become little more than the mother of his children.

And then when she had been told of her marriage to Rollo all these thoughts had been replaced by fear of when he claimed his marital rights and she would be at the mercy of the barbaric foreigner.

But tonight it would not be the way she had imagined it; she would come to bed as an equal.

He took her hand and tugged her towards the bed and willingly she followed.

He stopped before they got in the bed and spun her around so that she ended up with his arms draped around her waist. She instinctively wrapped her arms around him and let her head fall against his chest. With thrilling excitement as she began to feel his hands wander along her sides and back. She remembered what he had told her and began to move her hands from where they rested, tentatively feeling the taught muscles of his back through his thin shirt.

His hand drifted up to rest under her chin, and he angled her face up and began to kiss her again. With a jolt of new sensation Gisla felt him slowly press his tongue into her mouth. He had never kissed her like this before, and she wondered if he was an angel for his tongue seemed to burn with every movement as if it was made of fire. With slow, determined motions Gisla tried to replicate the movements he made with his mouth. And for a brief moment, she felt like she could feel him smile to himself as she did so.

The kiss broke and there was a lull in the interaction that Gisla did not like. She rose up on her toes and kissed him this time. A low moan escaped him and Gisla was pleased. She felt like she was doing well.

His hands began to move again, this time, taking more liberties. Moving up to her shoulders and then back down to the swell of her hips. He knelt down and Gisla could feel him gathering the hem of her nightdress. She could feel him pulling it up and off of her. In a hazy excitement, she now realized she was standing naked before him, and she did not mind. She trusted him. She knew he loved her.

He kissed her again, but his lips did not linger long. And he began to move his mouth along her jawline, down her neck, and across her collar bone. Until finally his face rested between her two breasts. She was glad it was dark for she was sure she was flushed crimson as she felt him linger there.

She felt his mouth move to the tip of her breast and she gave an involuntary shudder. He began to suckle like a babe and Gisla wondered what sweet torment she had gotten herself into. As if sensing her restlessness he moved again. This time picking her up from where she stood and carrying her to the bed as a man carries his new bride.

He placed her among the pillows and drew back. Soon Gisla could hear the distinctive sound of clothes hitting the floor.

* * *

Rollo climbed into the bed and moved towards her. He reminded himself to go slowly and to ease her into her first time. He was burning for her but tried to remember to let her set the pace. He knew she was placing great trust in him and he would not fail her.

He moved alongside her and was pleased with the sensation of skin touching skin. He smoothed his hand down her side, enjoying the rise and fall of her curves. He paused for a moment as she did the same to him, taking pleasure in the sensation of her hand running along his ribs down to his waist.

There was an uncertainty in her touch, almost as if she was afraid that if she pressed too hard she would harm him. He found unexpected pleasure in this. She was so inexperienced, and yet she wanted to please him. He did not correct her touches. He did not move to encourage her onward, or for more. He wanted her as she was tonight. Her innocence and uncertainty were his to savor.

There would be other nights when she would be bold and brash in bed. And practice all the tricks women knew that drove men wild with want. He would be there for that night and all the nights in between. But for now, he would take her for who she was.

He kissed her passionately and enjoyed the feeling of her opening her mouth to accommodate him. He moved his hand to cup her breast and felt her go rigid. He wondered if he should withdraw and ask her permission. But soon was reassured by the feeling of her hand moving to the tip of his shoulder. She had taken his instructions to follow his lead quite seriously, and seemed to want to replicate each of his actions in some way of her own.

He returned to kissing her again. This time scattering his kisses all along her face and neck. As he began to move his hand again he was pleased to feel that every brush and movement he made was replicated on his shoulder and back. And he did not know how he would endure the day she began to have ideas of her own when it came to how she touched him, for he could barely control himself now.

He moved his hand over her torso and down her leg. Trailing his touches over to her inner thigh and up. She parted her legs for him, and when his hand came to the junction between her legs he could feel that she was ready for him.

Rising slightly, he moved so that he was kneeling between her legs. He leaned over her and began to kiss along her collarbone and up her neck. And murmured the words, 'my Gisla' before kissing her on the lips.

Without breaking the kiss, he positioned himself at her entrance and began to press his way inside of her. When he had gone as far as he could he shuddered with the sensation of being fully one with her.

His pleasure was broken however when she let out a gasp of pain beneath him. And he became angered over his own stupidity. How could he have forgotten that she might feel pain the first time he took her? He instantly regretted not preparing her more or warning her about what was to come.

Troubled by how still she was staying he began to speak. "Is the pain too much," he asked as he prepared to withdraw and try again on a different night.

"No," she answered.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, it was just a quick pinch. It is over now I think. You may…continue if you wish."

He did wish, and he rolled his hips in a slow and steady motion to see what her reaction would be. She gave no signs of displeasure. He waited a moment and tried again. This time, she let out a tiny gasp, and he feared he might have hurt her. But when he stilled she gave a little thrust of her own hips and he understood.

No longer fearing he had harmed her he began to move at a pace he was more accustom to. Enjoying all her little gasps and sighs as he made love to her. She was so warm and young, and best of all entirely his. He felt his own pleasure grow inside him until the point he felt like he might burst into flames with raw lust and passion. He felt her quiver beneath him in pleasure and the last of his fortitude was gone.

He called out her name as he found his own release. And in that moment he wondered how Sköll could ever swallow the sun. The wolf may be able to chase, but when he came too close he would surely be consumed by the flames, and burned up in passion. For one could not get so close to a thing so bright without being changed.

After a moment he pulled away from her and curled himself around her. She moved so that each of her limbs was melded to his, and they rested at peace. His hand traced gentle, repetitive lines up and down her arm as he held her, and he murmured in her ear, "Are you happy?"

Gisla smiled to herself, "Very."

"And you weren't afraid?"

"Not for a moment."

"Good," he said and pressed a tender kiss to the back of her neck.

Gisla embraced the warmth of his arms and began to fall into a gentle sleep. A sudden jolt of consciousness ran through her when she remembered that she had forgotten to guess his name. She was no longer so sure that it was Rollo. The stranger had referred to him as her husband this very night. She could not understand why he would do that if they were one in the same.

And he had told her that being them love made them as good a married, instead of telling her that they were married. In some ways, she was glad that she had not guessed. She would have made herself into a fool if she did. But then again she remembered how moments ago when he had found pleasure in her he had called out her name, and she resented that she did not know his name. For she wished to call it back to him when he called hers.

Restlessly she tried to return to sleep, but could not find a way. The desire to know his identity filled her up too much. She waited until she was sure he was asleep and moved away from him. She searched her bedside table for a candle determined to light it. She groped along in the dark until she found a stone and flint and began to strike the two together. Her motions were fumbling and uncertain as she tried to get the candle to light. She had never done it before and soon realized she was not able to get the candle to take flame. In defeat she crawled back under the covers, she would have to find another way to discover who he was.

 **Author's Note: Remember this story is only inspired by Psyche and Eros, I had a few reviewers who were worried. Also, I stole the phrase, "my Gisla" from Zoesong's story "The Princess and the Bear". It is not my fault that story is the source of most of my head canons.**

 **Reviews are always welcome.**


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Rollo woke with his arms tangled around and her head resting on his shoulder. And for the first time in a long time he felt like he belonged somewhere, and that place was here. He wanted to wake up like this tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day for the rest of his life. He knew he could be happy here.

In the faint morning light, he could see that Gisla was slightly more disheveled than she usually was when she woke. And he could not help but feel a slight satisfaction at the idea that he was the reason for this. It felt good to know that she was his wife in truth now and even she couldn't deny it. He was happy that she had chosen this; she had chosen him.

He wondered for a moment if he should kiss her awake and let her see who she had been sharing a bed with all this time, but decided against it. While it would be amusing, he did not want to startle her. He wanted the revelation to be soft and sweet, like the night they had shared before.

He smiled to himself as he began to come up with a plan. He would leave and go pick _muguet_. When he returned he would wake her. And when she woke up she would see the connection between now and all the nights that had passed before. And he would remind her that he had always loved her even from the beginning, and she would come to accept him as her true husband.

Rollo climbed out of bed and began to dress in the clothes he had abandoned on the floor. He stole one last glance at her before leaving, his mind full of visions of his triumphant return. He could almost hear the shocked gasps the servants who found them. His lip twitched up when he realized that perhaps she would allow him to spend the whole day in bed with her. And they could fill the day with soft caresses and other things.

* * *

"You have gone too far this time." A shrill voice said, tearing Gisla from sleep.

A sudden chill ran through her body. She was naked, alone in bed, and knew that something had gone very wrong.

"And with a Prince of the Church under the same roof as you. Have you no shame," the matron snapped at her.

Gisla clutched the bedsheets to her chest and sat up to confront her accuser. She tried to form some kind of lie to explain the problem away, but when she looked around the room she realized that that would not be possible. She was surrounded by the damning evidence.

Her nightgown was abandoned on the floor, the pillow next to her was dented with the imprint of another head, and worst of all a small stain of blood could be seen on the sheets.

Gisla felt a cold sweat cover her as she realized what she had done and what she would have to answer for.

"Well, do you have an explanation?"

Gisla tried to collect her thoughts, but all words seemed to escape her.

"No," she finally whispered.

"As I thought," the old woman retorted. "Elinor find a simple black dress for Gisla to wear. Nothing beaded or embellished. Have her ready as soon as you can. It is time for her to answer for the wicked things she has done.

* * *

Rollo returned to her room later than he had wanted. The _muguet_ in the spot where he usually picked it seemed wilted and not as fresh as he would have liked it. It took longer than he expected to find more. He had then stopped several more times as he found other flowers he wanted to add. He selected large lilies, the symbol of Frankish nobility, and small purple flowers similar to the ones back in Kattegat. He wanted all of these to be included in the bouquet he would give her.

The sun was well into the sky by the time he was finally ready to return. It was not so early that she would have gone to the morning meal, but he was sure that some of her women would be in the room. Rollo felt slightly annoyed that already things were not going as he planned.

When he came back to her room it was empty with no one inside. The room felt eerily deserted and he began to notice that things were amiss. The curtains were not opened and the bed was not made. Even in Rollo's room servants were sent to do these things, he could not understand why they would not do them for a princess. He looked around the room for any other sign of what had happened and noticed that the bottom sheet of the bed had been removed completely. His stomach sank he knew this meant something, but he did not know what.

He left her room and began to walk to the dining room. Perhaps she was only there and he was concerning himself over nothing. As he walked he could not help but notice how every servant seemed to whisper as he walked by. This had not happened in weeks. He had become a common sight to them and he knew they were speaking of more than him being a foreign invader.

As he rounded a corner he came face to face with Count Odo. The fat man gave him a nervous smile and began to speak. "Ah, Duke Rollo, I have been searching for you. Something has happened and you need to come with me."

* * *

Gisla stood shaking in the antechamber to her father's throne room. She had never been more terrified in her life, and her father's words were doing little to comfort her.

"Who was this man Gisla? You must tell me, if only for your own sake. The Papal Envoy has heard of what has happened and is far from pleased with what has happened."

Charles's voice shook as he spoke and Gisla was equal parts terrified and disgusted by her father's fear.

"I do not know his name father," she answered truthfully.

Charles let out a sigh a disappointment, "Now is not the time to protect him. Tell me something, anything."

The room seemed to spin around Gisla as she tried to come to terms with what she had done. He had been so soft and gentle with her the night before, but all his words were lies. He had told her that everything would be alright, that the love between them was all that mattered. None of this was true.

"I cannot tell you what I do not know."

"Please Gisla, tell me what you know of him so that I can have some answers for these men. They are far from pleased with you. They think your request for a divorce was a form of mockery against the Holy Church. I want to be able to explain this away. I will talk of secret marriages or how you could not bear the idea of not being with a Christian, but I cannot do any of this if I do not know his name. My daughter, I fear that they wish to punish you most severely."

Gisla saw the panic in her father's eyes and looked away. She knew that she may be guilty of many things, but cowardice would not be one of them.

"So be it," she answered and then opened the door to the outer room.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Odo led Rollo to Charles' throne room. Behind the door, it seemed like Ragnarok itself had started. Priests dressed in assorted colors gathered in small groups to converse only to scatter again seconds later. Women on the side of the room openly wept. And in the center of the room spread across a table was Gisla's bedsheet.

Two Priest in the room moved towards the bedsheet and began to inspect what appeared to be a bloodstain. Suddenly it occurred to Rollo what was happening. He scanned the room in search of Gisla. Their eyes met at identical times, and she looked at him as if pleading for help.

That single look pierced him with a greater force than any arrow ever could. She knew that she could turn to him for protection. Wasn't that all he had ever wanted her to know? Didn't he tell her on their wedding night that she was his wife and that she shouldn't be afraid? Now he was the reason for all the trouble she was in. He knew that it was time to tell her.

He saw a priest move towards Gisla and a primitive rage began to fill him. He began to scream for everyone to get out. Every person in the room seemed to flinch at the sudden shout. When he saw that no one had moved though he screamed again. This time, a woman openly ran for the door and some of the men began to move towards the exit as well.

He overheard one priest suggest that perhaps he wished to beat her in private and that they should leave. Rollo screamed once more and the room emptied of everyone except for Gisla.

When he saw the large double doors fully close he turned back to Gisla. She was crying slightly and tears could be seen on her face. His mind could not help but recall the night of the wedding. Had anything changed since then? He was still yelling and she was still in weeping.

And yet, things had changed between them. He just wasn't sure exactly how.

He searched his mind for the words to say, but none would come. He didn't want this. He didn't want it to have to be an apology. He had worked so hard to get her to come to accept, and even love him. He stepped towards her and she stepped back. She was still afraid of him. All his mind could think of was how this was not the way he wanted it to be.

How looked down to the flowers he held in his hand. Half the flowers were missing petals or had broken stems, and he realized he must have accidentally gripped them too hard as he screamed. They looked as pathetic as he felt. But still, they were for her.

He stretched out his hand and offered them to her. When she saw the _muguet_ she looked at him with an unspoken question. As if she hoped it was some kind of sign. She took the flowers from him but said nothing.

In that moment Rollo wanted to go back to when he had woken this morning. He should have kissed her awake like he first wanted to. He could have revealed the truth to her in a pleasant way. He wanted this marriage to be about them, not about treaties, politics, or religion. He had loved her from the first moment he saw her and he was going to make her happy. And telling her he had been deceiving her in a moment like this was not the way.

He turned away from Gils and walked towards the door. A small group of people, who had obviously been listening at the door, jumped back as it swung open. He shut the door behind him and took charge of the situation.

"You, over there," he said looking at a woman he often saw with Gisla, "take the princess back to her chambers and stay with her."

A small gasp ran through the audience, and one helpful man shouted, "He speaks!"

Rollo shook his head in confusion. He had been speaking the whole time, just not always in Frankish. "Yes, I can speak in your tongue now. Where is the Emperor and…um… the most important priest, I wish to show them the full extent of my new skill."

The Cardinal stepped forward from the crowd, and after a moment Charles did as well. The Emperor was visibly shaking as he moved towards Rollo.

The Cardinal began speaking as soon as Charles stood next to him, "You may annul the marriage now if you wish, or you can choose to punish her as your wife if you–"

Rollo held up a hand silencing the man, "I do not want her punished."

"Your Grace, the sheet alone is enough proof that she is guilty."

"And how would a man who is not allowed to lie with women know anything about that?"

The Cardinal went white in shock, and Rollo looked to Charles.

"She should not be punished because she has done nothing wrong."

"How can this be," Charles asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"I will tell you tomorrow morning, but until then I would like the princess left in her chambers until I can speak with her again."

* * *

Gisla sat near the fire but still felt cold. She had spent most of the day alone and in silence, left to reflect on her terrible actions. She could not fathom how she could have been so easily deceived. She knew that everyone despised her now and was unsure of how to change this.

She wished they would have told her what her punishment was immediately instead of making her wait. The endless possibilities of what they could do tormented her, and everyone lying to her did not help either. Adelaide had been sent into the chamber after Rollo left and the maid insisted that he had asked her to take her back to her chambers. It was a silly thing to say, only moment earlier everyone had heard him scream for everyone to leave in his own language. It simply was not possible for him to have said such a thing.

Gisla wished he could speak. She wished she could have told him what had happened, yet how could she even find the words to say. Her heart broke a little as she thought of him turning away and leaving her as she was forced to watch him walk away.

He was still being kind to her. He had sent food for her to eat again and had given her flowers. He was carrying them with him at the time, and only later did she realize he was going to give them to her over breakfast.

Her stomach twisted as she thought of how as he had picked flowers for her she was in bed with another man.

The sun began to sink in the sky and Gisla wished she could dissolve in the darkness around her. She knew no servants would be coming to help her get ready for bed and she began to do the best that she could by herself. To her shame, her nightgown was still on the floor from last night, and she moved to go pick it up.

As she lifted the nightgown the distinct sound of metal hitting stone caught her attention. She looked down to find the arm ring that the stranger had given her. Gisla succumbed to a fresh wave of tears as she looked at it. In all of her careful planning to find out his true identity she had forgotten how much she had wanted it to be him. She had wanted it to be Rollo.

Even last night when she had had her doubts a small part of her still had held this hope. He was so kind and gentle towards her. She had only wished she had seen this sooner before she had ruined everything.

Rollo had been so constant and patient with her. And the stranger had only abandoned her at first morning light. She realized she should have been more careful in who she had chosen. Her mind drifted back to the night of the wedding, and she could not help but wonder what her life would be like if she had let him finish the marriage.

If that had happened there would be no divorce or prying women. Her father would have been pleased with her. And she would have married a kind man. But how could she have known how kind he was at the time? Before the flowers, and the food, and the patience he had shown her. There was no way for her to have known any of this before it was too late. And yet the more she thought of what could have been the more she wanted it.

Gisla slipped out of her dress and into the nightgown from the night before. It was strange having no one to help her do this, but she supposed that she was no longer a princess and she would never be again. All those who looked upon her only saw a fallen woman.

She climbed into bed and curled into a ball. She wanted nothing more than for this day to be over.

A slight noise stirred her to wakefulness and Gisla realized that she must have drifted asleep. The idea of the stranger visiting again that night had not occurred to her. She has assumed that he had taken what he came for last night and would not return.

Gisla grew enraged at the idea that he would come back after all she had suffered through today and wished that she had a knife with her. If on any night she would be capable of murder it would be this one.

"Get out of my bed you miserable cretin," she hissed at him.

"Gisla–"

"No! Don't talk to me. You are nothing but a vile dog who has brought shame to me. You have done nothing but tell countless lies to me. And I have lost everything I hold dear because of you!" Much to her chagrin she began to cry as she said these things, she wanted to stay strong in front of him, but that seemed impossible.

"Do you still not know who I am?" There was no demand in his voice. He sounded almost like he pitied her.

"No!" She sobbed, "I thought I did. But I was very wrong and mistaken."

"What were you mistaken about?"

"I thought you were someone else! Someone who it would not be a sin to be with. Someone who it would not be wrong for me to love. I was mistaken, so very, very, mistaken."

His laugh broke through the stillness of the night.

"Don't laugh at me! Don't you dare laugh at me. I have suffered a thousand humiliations for your sake and I will not allow you to mock me."

His hand reached out and clasped hers. "Gisla, you know who I am."

"No, I do not! I just–"

A fierce kiss placed on her lips stopped her from speaking. "No. You know who I am. I am sure of it." He insisted. "Strike a light and see."

Panic mingled with yearning inside her. And she did not speak for a long moment as she thought of the words to say.

"What if I am wrong? What if I see who you are and it only proves my own ignorance," She said.

He placed a kiss on her cheek. "Shh, shh. Gisla, forget these wide-eyed fears. Light a candle."

Her whole frame shook as she rolled over to reach for the stone and flint at her bedside. She wished her hands would not tremble so. Twice she struck the stone and flint together, but the flame did not take.

"I cannot do this." She told him, her voice faint.

"I told you it will be all right, there is nothing to fear."

"No, I cannot get the candle to light. I have never done this before."

"Oh?" he said in amusement, "That is all right. Pass them here."

She pressed the candle and fire starters into his hand and felt her stomach drop inside her. The moment of truth had arrived.

"Close your eyes," he whispered to her.

She shut them tightly and waited.

She heard the stone and flint strike together, and from behind the veil of her eyelids could tell that light had entered the room.

Summoning up all her courage she lifted her eyelids open. The room was bathed in a golden glow like the most perfect of sunrises. And there in her bed was her husband.

"Je vous salue, sweet Gisla," He said taking her hand and placing a kiss upon it.


	22. Epilogue

Epilogue

Rollo watched as Gisla burst into tears and he felt his heart leap to his throat. Perhaps he had miscalculated. Perhaps she had hated him all along.

"Gisla? Gisla, what is wrong?" He asked in fear and confusion.

She moved her hand to wipe her tears away so she could look him in the eye. "Nothing is wrong." She said tears still forming in her eyes, "Nothing is wrong or will ever be wrong again. It was you. It was always you."

She moved towards him and placed all the kinds of kisses she had upon his lips: the tender ones, the passionate ones, the childish ones, the lustful ones. She was in love with her husband, she had always been in love with her husband.

She pulled back from him and watched elation and wonder cover his face, "Have you always known?"

"No, but you made me see what my eyes could not."

Her words touched him and this time, it was he who kissed her. Fully, passionately, overwhelmingly. And once again they made love. No longer in the darkness, but in the light. And in that moment neither one had ever felt so complete or so wanted. In unity with a force larger than themselves. They were fit for each other. The ideal pair. The perfect match.

* * *

Many jaws dropped and heads turned as they strode arm and arm together into the feast hall. The Emperor himself went pale and his eyes darted around the room in search of some form of explanation. "Gisla what is all this?" He asked in uncertainty.

His daughter smiled back at him, and answered, "This is my way of showing all of Paris that I was mistaken. That I had misjudged. My husband is not a filthy heathen who wishes me harm. No, he is not that at all. And I wish for everyone far and wide to know that if he shows half as much love and devotion to Paris as he has shown to me then we will never have anything to fear again."

Rollo looked down at her and smiled, and then said to the crowd, "And this is my way of showing that I am far from displeased with my wife. For despite what you may think she has been with one man, and that is me. And I could never be displeased with such a good, pleasing, and perfect bride."

* * *

Her husband stepped into the bedroom in his nightshirt and a strange feeling flooded Gisla. It was such a foreign and yet familiar thing for him to do and Gisla understood that they were truly going to live as man and wife now.

Her mind suddenly flooded with all the harsh things she had once thought of him. How he was a violent savage, and little more than a dog. How could she have ever been so wrong?

And to make matters worse she had shared all of these nasty and unfair thoughts with him, intimately and in detail. And now here he was in her chambers smiling at her almost bashfully. Perhaps being married was new to him too. He seemed happy, but why? Should he not hate her for all the cruel things she had said to him? She had been vicious and he showed her only kindness in return.

She felt a stray tear run down her cheek as she realized that it was she who was the savage. He had wanted to love her like this from the beginning and she had only scorned him.

Rollo seemed to see her sadness and moved towards her. He took her in his arms and whispered, "I had always hoped that there would be less tears in the light. What troubles you?"

Gisla wiped at her eyes. She had not meant to cry. In many ways, she was so very happy. But she was still upset over how awful she had been to him. "Why did you do it," she asked.

He tilted his head in confusion, "Do what?"

"Come to me. Stay with me. You were always so kind."

"I did it because you are my wife."

Gisla was not satisfied with this simple answer, "No there must be more. Each night I openly scorned and mocked you. I called you a dog, a savage, and so much worse. How could you not hate me after all this?"

"I do not know, perhaps it was destiny."

She looked at him in disbelief. "You believe in destiny that strongly?"

"No, I fell in love with you that strongly."

 **The End**

Author's Notes: It's finished! A special thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed. I honestly could not have done it without your support, comments, and criticism. In many ways this is as much your success as it is mine.


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